


Crown & Consort

by Bohemia



Series: King & Lionheart [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 107,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4296939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemia/pseuds/Bohemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'In Your Name'.<br/>{REPOSTED}<br/>The Prince of Wales and the man who saved his life are about to face a brand new set of challenges as Albion's time of need arrives. If only they didn't have to worry about a looming constitutional crisis at the same time.</p><p>More royal residences, a princess on a mission, girls who won't take no for an answer, two ridiculous boys who just can't stop trying to out-noble the other, and reincarnation abound. It's all about to get a lot more complicated.<br/>IN PROGRESS (again!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If you asked Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Wales, if he was enjoying 2013 so far he would answer with a resounding ‘no’. To be honest, his answer would probably be bracketed by a couple of profanities and lack all the propriety one would expect from a future sovereign.

The root cause of his distress? Well, that could be summarised neatly into three succinct points:

  1. Morgana’ s ability to force him into situations he’d rather avoid
  2. The King’s ability to make Arthur feel like a lambasted little boy
  3. Merlin’s ability to disappear at exactly the wrong moment



Arthur realised, as he glared at the champagne flute he was holding, that his list sounded like it consisted of superheroes with questionable talents. It was only bloody quarter past midnight; surely the rose-tinted glasses of new year/clean slate should still be firmly in place. Or if not  _firmly_  in place due to the free-flowing champagne around him, at least happily skewiff enough to create the illusion of jollity and celebration.

Arthur Pendragon was not jolly.

Arthur Pendragon was not celebrating.

Arthur Pendragon wanted to throw things at the gathered guests. Preferably one of those gaudy Fabergé eggs his sister had procured as a raffle prize.

Yes. A  _raffle_ prize. Morgana had smiled sweetly at a member of the Spanish Royal Family for a few minutes at a dinner earlier that month and the two eggs had been shipped to London the follow ing day. After the cancellation of her New Year’s Eve Party the year before, Morgana was determined to hit at least the top ten in the Forbes’ Party List again. Thus the idea for the Luxury Raffle was born. All a guest had to do was hand over a cheque for at least fifty-thousand pounds to Morgana’s charitable fund and they would be entered into the draw for a chance to win something expensive and obnoxious at the end of the evening. There was a three-foot solid platinum unicorn for Christ’s sake.

Morgana raised her eyebrows at Arthur again from the raised platform that had been assembled between two large windows on the far wall. He knew she was waiting for him to go over and do his duty. Although, how  _duty_ could ever be a term applied to pulling small, ivory tickets out of an ice bucket Arthur didn’t know, but Morgana had told him it was the least he could do after his disappearing act on Christmas Day.

Arthur looked straight past his sister, darting his eyes around the room once more in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his errant boyfriend. Oh, and wasn’t Arthur enjoying rolling  _that_  word off his tongue for the first time in months. He wasn’t, however, enjoying the fact that Merlin had buggered off to talk to other people over an hour ago and hadn’t returned in time for the countdown. Not that Arthur could have kissed Merlin in public (at least not if he wanted to avoid a constitutional crisis for the moment), but a supportive presence in the wake of the recently-divorced Cosima Ketton-Dale’s lips being planted firmly on Arthur’s own at midnight would have been nice; the woman had an unfortunate moustache and a penchant for perfume that smelled suspiciously like eau de dead badger. All in all it hadn’t really been the way Arthur had planned to greet the New Year.

But Merlin was nowhere to be seen and there was a disti nct ‘clunk’ as Morgana switched on the microphone.

“Happy New Year,” Morgana beamed as she addressed the immediately silent crowd. “My brother and I would like to thank you all for your generous donations this evening and throughout the year.”

Arthur’s attention was drawn away from Morgana as a hand briefly brushed against his elbow. He twitched in surprise, and turned his head to see Elena smiling at him.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered as Morgana’s spiel continued.

Arthur returned the sentiment, kissing her cheek as he spoke.

“Where’s your lovely man?” Elena asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “No idea,” he shrugged. “He disappeared when he saw Mithian heading this way.”

Elena wrinkled her nose. “At least Vivian’s not here.”

“Hmm,” Arthur’s mouth tightened into a thin line.

“Without further ado,” Morgana’s voice rose and Arthur found himself on the end of a pointed stare, “His Royal Highness, Prince Arthur, will draw the first name.”

Arthur, ignoring the crowd’s applause, shot Elena a resigned glance before pasting on his public smile and joining his sister.

As he reached into the ice bucket to select the first ticket, the eager crowd clutching the corresponding slips of paper, Arthur briefly hoped that Merlin was having more fun than him.

 

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was  _not_  having more fun than Arthur. In fact,  _fun_  wasn’t a word that could be applied to any part of the preceding hour of Merlin’s life. He slammed a palm against the heavy, metal door one more time and ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he thought about how he’d managed to get himself into yet another tangle.

He’d excused himself from the party around eleven o’clock, hoping to get a few minutes of air away from the suffocating attention that had been bestowed upon him since his arrival at Claridge’s. It appeared that everyone on Morgana’s guest list had watched Morgause’s documentary with great interest and were all just thrilled/enchanted/honoured to meet the Prince’s best friend.

“Bloody hell,” Merlin had sighed when he’d exited the hotel and hurried around to the back of the building, ensconcing himself in the shadows near the Goods Entrance. His suit smelled like a myriad of different perfumes, the cloying scent invading his nose even in the cold fresh air. He leant his head back against the door and wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time since leaving Balmoral with Arthur three days earlier, just why on earth he’d allowed himself to be mixed up in this world again.

Merlin knew the answer of course, and he wouldn’t have changed his decision, but he hadn’t quite prepared himself for the resurfaced interest of the press after the documentary had aired. He and Arthur had finally watched it over breakfast the morning they left Balmoral, and it had become obvious in less than thirty seconds that Annis had ensured the interviews had been edited very carefully to ensure nothing too personal had been revealed by any of the contributors. Merlin had come across as close friend and confidant, nothing more (thank God), but had featured enough that the seventy-nine mi ssed calls he’d received the morning after the documentary had aired suddenly made a lot more sense.

Arthur had been desperate to know why Uther had wanted him to watch the programme, and that too had been clear from the outset. A number of contributors, Elena included, were young, female members of prominent families and all of them had been exceedingly complimentary about the Prince and his many qualities. Uther was clearly still on a mission to marry his son off to a girl of breeding, and Annis had ensured the press had enough vague clues to speculate about future queens for the foreseeable future.

The beginnings of a tension headache had arisen as he’d thought of the King and the team at Clarence House. Morgana hadn’t announced Merlin’s invitation to her party to anyone, but word had reached Uther within twenty minutes of Merlin’s arrival at the hotel; confirmation of this came when Arthur excused himsel f to take a phone call and had returned with a thunderous expression marring his features.

“I’m leaving for Norfolk first thing in the morning,” Arthur had hissed with no preamble once he’d dragged Merlin away from a conversation with Gwaine. “I’ve been summoned.” There’d been nothing else said about it as they’d both been whisked off by other guests.

Merlin had huffed out a breath, watching it condense into a swirling white cloud. “Once more unto the breach,” he’d muttered as he pushed himself away from the cold wood and steeled himself for returning to the Ballroom.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Stumbling slightly in surprise at the sound of the voice Merlin had turned quickly and found himself face to face with a young man dressed entirely in black. “Yes?”

“I’m going to have to ask you to come with me,” the man said, stony faced even as Merlin’s own features scrunched into surprise.

“Sorry?”

“This is a restricted area this evening,” the man had continued, moving slightly to block Merlin’s escape.

“I’m a guest at the party,” Merlin replied, hairs on the back of his neck beginning to rise.

The man had shaken his head slightly and then…

Well, Merlin truthfully didn’t know what had happened then. All he knew was that one minute he’d been heading back to Davies Street and the next he’d woken up in what he could only describe as a cell, the distant chimes of a clock alerting him to the fact it was midnight.

And he was still here an hour later, according to his watch, waiting for someone to come and tell him what the hell was going on. His phone had been removed from his pocket so there was n o way he could call someone for help.

The temptation to use magic was strong, but he couldn’t risk anyone else finding out about that little character trait just yet. Truth be told he was also still hesitant about using his magic; it had felt as if there was just too much of it flowing through his veins since his encounter with Morgause, fuelled further by the fact he was experiencing inordinately vivid nightmares on a nightly basis. He was also wary of actually using his magic in front of Arthur – that was definitely going to take some getting used to, for both of them. He put a hand into his pocket, his fingers curling around the ring that thankfully still remained.

“Hello?” Merlin called again, although he knew it was fruitless. He hadn’t received an answer any of the previous times he’d called.

So the door creaking open was quite the surprise.

"Ah, Mr Emrys,” greeted his visitor with a smile.

“Agravaine?” Merlin frowned.

Agravaine’s smile remained in place. “I apologise for the misunderstanding earlier. The Security Team identified a potential threat in the vicinity of the hotel. It seems you were not recognised. Please accept my most sincere apologies.”

Merlin’s fingers ran gently over the lump on the back of his head. “He hit me,” he grumbled petulantly, annoyed at how less than sincere Agravaine looked.

Agravaine held up his hands. “I’m sure you understand why drastic measures need to be taken when the Pendragons are facing threats.”

Merlin supposed he did, but he didn’t voice that thought. “Where am I?”

“St James’ Palace,” Agravaine replied. “We have a secure unit here to deal with immediate threats t o the family.”

_Oh great,_ Merlin thought,  _yet another residence to become acquainted with._ “Can I go now? I’m sure A-“ Merlin cut himself off. “Someone has noticed I’ve disappeared.”

“Of course,” Agravaine was smiling obsequiously again. “It was the Prince who alerted his team to the fact you were absent. He has been made aware of the situation.”

Merlin’s frown deepened. “How long ago did you know I wasn’t the man you were looking for?”

“Not long,” Agravaine replied. “It only became clear that there had been a misunderstanding when a known protestor was arrested a few streets away.”

“Right,” Merlin said slowly.

“If you’d like to follow me,” Agravaine ducked his head slightly.

Merlin followed the other man out of the room, all the while trying to dispel the feeling of  _wrongness_  that skated across his skin as he did so.

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur glared at Leon and Owain as he tapped the plastic end of a hotel pen repeatedly on the glass top of the lamp table. The sound was obnoxiously loud in the otherwise silent room, but Arthur felt he was allowed to express a certain level of insufferable immaturity right in that moment. He pursed his lips as he continued his rhythmic rapping, extraordinarily pleased each time he managed to elicit a wince from one of the other men.

Arthur stilled the pen abruptly, bringing his arm back across his chest as he discarded the pen on the table. “Which part of the instruction ‘you are not to let him out of your sight’ did you have a problem with?”

“With all due respect, Arthur,” Leon held up his hands as he spoke, “there were a lot of people in the Ballroom.”

Arthur smirked sarcastically. “Well, Leon, I’m thrilled to know that I’ll be safe from harm as long as I stick to sparsely populated areas.”

“Merlin is quite good at sneaking out,” Owain chanced eventually.

Arthur, despite really wanting to, couldn’t actually disagree with that statement. “Who was the clown who took him to St James?”

“His name is Gilli. Tom Gilli, ” Leon supplied, resuming the usual confident set of his shoulders. “He was brought onto the King’s protection team at the beginning of the summer. When Agravaine assumed responsibilities for London Residences and Functions a number of the previous team were transferred with him.”

“And nobody recognised Merlin?” Arthur raised his eyebrows.

Leon shook his head.

“And Merlin just didn’t say a word?”

Leon winced again; it would have been imperceptible to most people, but Arthur ha d known him since he was fifteen and Leon had arrived at Eton as part of Arthur’s team.

“Leon?”

Leon was saved from answering as the door to Arthur’s private office opened and Merlin followed Agravaine into the room.

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed before he could stop himself, covering it with a little cough when Agravaine arched an eyebrow.

Merlin just pursed his lips in response.

“Right,” Arthur coughed again as he rose to his feet. “That will be all.” He shot pointed glances at the three guards.

“Arthur,” Leon bobbed his head, as did Owain before they left.

“Arthur.” Agravaine made no move to leave. “Your father has been informed of the evening’s events. He would like Mr Emrys to accompany you to Sandringham in the morning.”

Arthur twitched slightly at his words, but schooled his features into something he hoped resembled nonchalance. “Of course. I’m assuming Mr Emrys’ will also be receiving a full apology from those responsible for his incarceration.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Agravaine smiled tightly.

Arthur stared coldly back at Agravaine; their relationship had soured significantly since Arthur had broken the other man’s nose the year before. He remained silent.

“Of course,” Agravaine held his smile. “A full formal apology will be issued upon your return to London.”

Arthur ignored the way Merlin’s eyes had narrowed. “Thank you, Agravaine. That will be all.”

Agravaine bowed slightly before closing the door behind him.

“What the fuck was that?” Merlin asked, waving a hand at th e prince.

“What was what?” Arthur shrugged, immediately on the defensive. Agravaine really got on his bloody nerves.

“Your ridiculous ‘oh look I’m Arthur, I’m all chivalrous,’ act,” Merlin crossed his arms at the same time Arthur did. “Not a damsel, Arthur. Remember?”

“You’re the one who got himself practically arrested for lurking suspiciously outside Claridge’s,” Arthur set his jaw. “I’m not sure you deserve an apology actually.”

“I wasn’t  _lurking_ ,” Merlin waved his hands again. “I was escaping from a crazy woman who kept trying to solicit me for, and I quote, ‘a quick snog under the piano’.”

Arthur blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

Merlin looked horrified at the memory. “This woman in bright pink practically chased me around the Ballroom w hile you were talking to the Prime Minister. She smelled like a dead badger or something.”

Arthur snorted at Merlin’s choice of description, unable to stop the fond smile creeping onto his lips as his annoyance melted away.

“What?” Merlin frowned at Arthur’s smile.

“You should be glad you escaped,” Arthur unfolded his arms and strode in Merlin’s direction.

Merlin tilted his head as Arthur reached him. “What?”

“ _I_  had to kiss her,” Arthur dropped his hands to Merlin’s waist.

Merlin was silent for a long moment before he burst out laughing. “Seriously?”

“Yes,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “It’s not funny, you know. She’s on the hunt for a new husband.”

“You were her second choice,” Me rlin laughed, raising his hands to Arthur’s shoulders as he grinned.

Arthur grimaced. “No,” he shook his head with a pout. “You were just-“

Merlin pressed a hand to Arthur’s lips. “Shut up, Arthur,” he shook his head, his grin widening.

Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin dropped his hand. “Fine, I concede. Just make sure you invite me to the wedding.”

Merlin shuddered as Arthur laughed.

“Sorry,” Arthur said eventually, scrunching his nose up slightly as sheepishness crept up on him. “About overreacting.”

Merlin’s grin softened. “It’s alright. I already know you’re a noble prat. And I suppose I w-“

Arthur tugged Merlin closer, effectively cutting off further conversation by pressing their lips together. Merlin made a small noise of protest, but he tightened his grip on Arthur’s collar.

Arthur grinned slightly as he ran his hands up the back of Merlin’s dinner jacket, noting the slight shiver this touch elicited. He trailed his fingertips up the side of Merlin’s neck and into the perpetually unruly mop of dark hair.

Merlin flinched away from Arthur’s hands, foreheads colliding as he jerked forwards.

“Ow, fuck,” Arthur grimaced, but didn't let go of Merlin. He returned his right hand to Merlin’s hair, gingerly pushing his fingers through the slightly tangled waves to find the spot that had made Merlin jump.

“Get off, Arthur,” Merlin tried to wriggle away.

Merlin stilled again under Arthur’s probing fingers.

Arthur’s face hardened. “What happened?” His voice had dropped into the danger area that signalled the prince w as roughly twenty seconds away from wanting to maim someone.

“Nothing,” Merlin shrugged his way out of Arthur’s grasp. “It was a misunderstanding, alright? Jesus, Arthur, I can look after myself, you know.”

“Really?” Arthur barked disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Merlin nodded vehemently. “ _Really_. So you don’t need to kill anyone, okay?”

Arthur still looked murderous. “But-“

“ _Arthur!_ ” Merlin growled. “Leave it alone. We’ve done the dramatic relationship thing already.”

“But-“

Merlin sighed and Arthur felt his resolve disappearing.

“Let’s just go to bed,” Merlin said quietly. “Big day tomorrow, after all.”

**ooOOoo**

An hour later Arthur was still staring up at the ceiling as Merlin shifted restlessly on the other side of the bed.

“What?” Merlin whispered, startling Arthur. “I can hear you seething.”

“I’m not seething.” Arthur grimaced slightly at the huffy tone that crept into his denial.

“Alright, not seething. Fuming, then,” Merlin replied, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow.

“I’m not fuming either,” Arthur tilted his head to the side, remaining on his back. “I was  _thinking_.”

“About?”

“You could have used your magic,” Arthur replied slowly. “But you didn’t.”

Merlin snorted slightly. “You  _wanted_  me to use magic? That would have gone down well.”

Â Arthur couldn’t help rolling his eyes; it was almost a natural reaction in Merlin’s presence at times. “Not even just to get rid of the goose egg on the back of your head?”

“There’s two things my magic isn’t very good at,” Merlin replied carefully. “Healing people, and fixing technology.”

“Well that explains your inability to keep a phone,” Arthur rolled himself onto his side so he was mirroring Merlin.

“Crap,” Merlin’s eyes widened. “About that…”

“ _Another_  one,  _Mer_ lin?” Arthur sighed in exasperation.

Merlin scrunched up his face; guilt written all over it.

“Ridiculous,” Arthur shook his head, reaching out to run his finger along the ring cushioned against Merlin’s cheek as he rested on his hand. “Well done on not losing that.”

“I’d never lose this,” Merlin said seriously.

“Come here, idiot,” Arthur smiled as he dropped back onto his pillows, pulling Merlin over so he could rest his head against Arthur’s shoulder. “Although, are you going to thrash around again when you fall asleep? Because if so, try not to punch me in the face again.”

“Sorry about that,” Merlin mumbled, and Arthur could tell he was blushing.

“Are you ever going to tell me about them?”

“About what?”

“The nightmares,” Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair, careful to avoid the bump.

Merlin’s hand rested across Arthur’s chest, directly above his heart. “Not yet, Arthur,” Merlin said quietly.

Arthur didn’t say anything, just raised his free hand to cover Merlin’ s fingers.

He’d find out eventually. He’d make sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bugger off, Pendragon,” Merlin grumbled as he felt the duvet being tugged from his grasp. “I’m not getting up yet.”

The warmth continued to slide away from him and he pushed his face further into the pillows. “I hate you,” he muttered into the material. “Bloody prat.”

An amused chuckle sounded nearby and Merlin’s eyes snapped open at the sound. The purloiner of his blankets was indeed a member of the Pendragon family, it just wasn’t the one he was expecting.

“Morgana?”

The Princess Royal smirked at him in a manner that suggested he was terribly dear to her, but that she would be using his sleep-rumpled state as a source of mockery in the future.

Merlin, unendingly thankful for once again adhering to his mother’s ‘always wear pyjamas’ rule, pushed himself up into a sitting position as the du vet slithered to the floor with a whoosh of finality.

“I’m not sure anyone’s ever quite addressed me like that before, Merlin,” Morgana’s eyes sparkled with mirth as Merlin felt his cheeks heating rapidly.

“I didn’t mean…” Merlin trailed off sheepishly, scrunching his face up as he shot his friend a self-deprecating smile. “That was entirely meant for Arthur.”

“Well he deserves it,” Morgana laughed. “He’d been stomping around for the last two hours.”

Merlin nodded slowly, before suddenly jerking forwards, scrabbling slightly as he threw himself off the bed. “Oh bloody hell,” he announced as he tripped past Morgana, hunting for his holdall. “Bloody, bloody hell! How late am I?”

“Relax,” Morgana grinned as Merlin turned to look at her, a clean t-shirt grasped in his hand. “It’s only eigh t o’clock.”

Merlin sagged slightly and dropped the t-shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers caught the lump on the back of his head that had been blissfully sleep-numbed until that moment.

Morgana’s eyes darkened. “Yes, he told me about that.”

“It was nothing,” Merlin sighed as he stood up.

“Not to Arthur,” Morgana said, all hints of humour gone.

“Well he d-“

“Merlin,” Morgana reached out to grasp Merlin’s wrist.

Merlin stilled as he caught the seriousness of her tone.

“You can’t ask him not to care,” Morgana shook her head slightly. “You know what he’s like. For all his pigheaded stubbornness and arrogance, he will not see an injustice go unquestioned. Particularly when it comes to some one he cares about.”

Merlin smiled slightly. “I know. And that’s what makes him Arthur, but he can’t fight everybody else’s battles.”

The princess grinned again. “Won’t stop him trying though.”

“No,” Merlin sighed ruefully. “I suppose it won’t.”

* * *

_Arthur Pendragon did not get nervous._

_Arthur Pendragon was a prime example of confidence and poise._

_Arthur Pendragon knew how to choose the correct words._

These were three facts about the Prince of Wales that were unerringly true, unless Arthur Pendragon was readying himself to face his father; then they fell over completely and Arthur developed an edgy twitch and forgot how to speak English. (This all somehow applied to facing Merlin too, but that was an admission too far.)

The twitch had started before dawn, but despite Arthur’s deep-seated need to yell at someone in frustration he hadn’t actually had the heart to wake Merlin up; not when the other boy was sprawled messily on his side of the bed, hair sticking up wildly in an annoyingly endearing manner.

So Arthur had huffed quietly to himself and shuffled out from under the duvet as Merlin had remained dead to the world. It was the first time Merlin had slept through the night since they’d - Arthur didn’t want to say ‘got back together’ as that was way too teen pop song, and 'reunited’ seemed a bit dramatic. Regardless, it was the first night since  _then_  that Merlin’s dreams had remained undisturbed.

Arthur’s own sleep hadn’t been brilliant since Christmas either; he still remembered the overwhelming sense of loss he’d felt when he’d been torn from a dream on that first night. He’d shuddered slightly at the memory as he’d quickly shrugged out of his pyjamas and into something suitably unobtrusive for an incognito run around the park.

Running would help clear his mind, he’d thought as he left the room in search of Leon. Running would help.

As the ancient law of Sod would have it, running had  _not_  helped. Not even remotely. Running had resulted in Arthur defying another truth about himself – namely,  _Arthur Pendragon is never clumsy_  – by skidding on a patch of ice, jarring his knee slightly and careening into Leon h ard enough to send them both tumbling to the floor.

An hour later Arthur glared at the toast rack, a butter knife gripped tightly in his fist. He’d stopped twitching nervously, but only because it jarred his knee to do so. Leon was standing nearby; the prince could hear quiet grumbling every few minutes.

“Are you trying to be Matilda?”

Arthur’s head snapped to the door at the sound of Merlin’s voice. “What?”

“Matilda,” Merlin repeated, gesturing (nonsensically, in Arthur’s opinion) between the prince and the toast. “You know,  _Matilda_.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “Clearly, I  _don’t_.”

Merlin rolled his eyes with a grin as he took the seat opposite Arthur and selected a slice of toast. “Matilda. Roald Dahl? Little girl with telekinetic powers? It’s a  _book_ , Ar thur. No? Seriously?”

Arthur’s frown deepened as he watched Merlin extract a blob of strawberry jam and drop it onto his toast. He shook his head, remaining silent as his lips tightened further.

“I thought you might be trying to get the toast to move,” Merlin replied.

Merlin was waving the jam spoon around to the point that Arthur was alarmed enough about the safety of the antique Persian rug beneath their feet to grasp the flailing wrist and still it completely.

Merlin only smirked. “Or perhaps you were trying to get it to combust under the power of your glare? But that seemed less family-friendly.”

_Why was Merlin being calm?_ Arthur’s grip on the knife tightened further. Didn’t he realise that they were only hours away from the lion’s den that was Uther’s private study at Sandringham? Arthur hadn’t fu lly explained his father’s reaction to his announcement on Christmas Eve; the King had been unnervingly calm as his son had bared his soul, but Arthur had only seen the man relax slightly when he’d been assured that Arthur and Merlin were no longer together. But now? Now t-

“Arthur?” Merlin’s gentle tone was enough to startle Arthur into dropping the knife.

The prince jumped as the heavy silver hit the rim of the breakfast plate. His eyes widened in surprise as the delicate china fractured on impact.

_Arthur Pendragon was never clumsy._

“Fuck, sorry,” Merlin hissed. He dropped his eyes to the plate and Arthur watched, in something approaching morbid fascination, as the shards knitted back together perfectly.

Arthur felt his mouth drop open and clearly heard Leon’s startled intake of breath. The prince looked up to find Merlin, a rather startled Merlin if he was honest, staring back at him.

“Um…” Merlin waved a hand.

Arthur flinched unconsciously at the movement and felt like kicking himself as he saw the almost infinitesimal flicker of hurt flare in Merlin’s eyes for a second. “Sorry,” Arthur managed to choke out eventually. “Sorry.”

Merlin quirked his lips in that way that meant he wasn’t really smiling, but he was trying to alleviate some guilt on Arthur’s part. Arthur hated that smile.

“I’m…” Arthur trailed off, twisting his hands together.

_Arthur Pendragon did not get nervous._

“It’s…” he stopped himself again.

_Arthur Pendragon knew how to choose the correct words._

“I don’t know what my father’s going to say,” Arthur admitted eventually, watching as Merlin’s eyes refused to look away. Arthur, for his part, hunched his shoulders slightly and ran a hand through his hair.

_Arthur Pendragon was a prime example of confidence and poise._

“We’ll be alright, Arthur,” Merlin said steadily, ducking his head until Arthur found himself caught by that stare again. “It’s not a platitude. It’s the truth.”

Arthur gave in when Merlin smiled slightly, a real one this time.

“Dripping jam on the floor is a treasonable offence,” Arthur grinned eventually.

Merlin rolled his eyes with a fond smile and went back to munching his toast.

Arthur should probably add a new truth to that list, considering he’d managed to scrub four out already that morning:

Arthur Pendragon thought Merlin Emrys was a bit wonderful really. (But admitting it aloud would be girly.)

* * *

Merlin started to feel much less than wonderful as the car purred past King’s Lynn. The roads were practically empty due to the fact it was New Year’s Day. He felt like asking Arthur if they were always going to conduct the most dramatic moments of their relationship on, or at least around, national Bank Holidays, but the look on the prince’s face stopped him.

Arthur was staring out of the window, but it was clear that he wasn’t seeing what was beyond the pane of glass. The prince had already had earbuds in and and was listening to music quietly on his iPod by the time Merlin had climbed into the car outside Kensington, and Arthur hadn’t made any effort to speak to anyone since then.

Merlin knew Arthur well enough by now not to be offended by this behaviour; that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried though. With lack of anything better to do, Merlin had spent the journey contemplating the myriad of ways Uther could probably have him removed from the face of the planet. He’d told himself to stop this train of thought when he’d started contemplating whether the pheasants on the Estate could be trained to attack en masse.

He wished he had a phone so he could call Gwen. Or text Will – mainly to apologise for the fact his car hadn’t been returned personally; and he was also very sorry that the men in suits had startled Nerys when she was watering the flower bed in her dressing gown.

He knew Morgana had been texting Arthur; he’d seen four messages arrive since leaving London, but Arthur hadn’t even read them. Just briefly looked at the screen before returning to the phone to his pocket.

“Alright, Merlin?” Leon asked quietly, looking back at him in the rear view mirror. He’d been doing this every twenty to thirty miles or so and Merlin’s respo nse had been the same each time.

Nod and smile.

Repeat.

“You’re sure?” Leon asked, and that was new. There’d been no follow up earlier on.

“Fine, thanks,” Merlin replied quietly, noting that Arthur was pretending that he wasn’t watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“We’re about ten minutes away.”

Merlin felt the blood drain from his face at Leon’s words, every semblance of confidence he’d felt in London melting away at the sight of a vaguely familiar landscape outside.

A hand curled around his wrist and he looked up to see Arthur’s face set in a grim line for the second time that morning. Merlin knew how much of himself Arthur had given away when he ‘d spoken to his father. Arthur’s words from Christmas Day were burned into Merlin’s memo ry –  _“I told him that I loved you. That I still loved you. That you are as important to me as my mother was to him.”_

_Fuck,_ thought Merlin as every uneasy feeling he’d ever had about Uther sprang to the surface. Because what else was there to think?

* * *

Uther hadn’t said anything in fifteen minutes, and it was taking every ounce of self-control that Arthur had to keep from shifting around on his chair in the manner of a restless toddler. His Father was glaring at him, occasionally alternating between pursing his lips and frowning deeply.

Arthur held the King’s gaze as steadily as possible. He had somewhat expected the silent treatment; then again he’d also expected his father to challenge him to a duel. Really, he’d had too much time to think in the car.

When Uther finally broke the silence it was enough to startle Arthur back into rigid alertness.

“I cannot allow this dalliance to continue,” Uther’s words were as cold as the look in his eye.

Arthur baulked at the term. “Father, it is not a  _dalliance_!”

Uther’s eye s narrowed further. “I allowed you to voice your thoughts on Christmas Eve, Arthur, because you assured me that you were no longer… _involved_  with that boy.” The King was practically spitting his words. “But I will not allow this to continue.”

Arthur curled his fingers into his palms, hoping that Leon had managed to lead Merlin to the far-flung reaches of the house; he didn’t want Merlin hearing this conversation.

“Father,” Arthur injected as much confidence as he could into his address. “Merlin has saved my life. More than once!”

“For which I am grateful,” Uther replied, although he sounded nothing of the sort. “But that does not change anything. I had thought you were maturing, Arthur, growing into your role as Prince, but that appears not to be the case. You would risk everything you have worked towards for this… _boy_?”

“Yes.” Arthur’s answer came without hesitation.

Uther’s face twisted into a snarl. “Why?”

“I love him.” Arthur tried to not to flinch as he realised how pathetic his voice sounded. Where was his argument? Years of debate training and that was the best he could muster up – the response of a Disney heroine?

Uther laughed harshly. “It is not  _love_ , Arthur. It is infatuation. It is your duty to act in accordance with the traditions of the monarchy. You will tell Mr Emrys that his attentions are no longer welcomed, and you will instruct Leon to drive him to the train station.”

Arthur’s eyes widened at that. “You brought Merlin all the way here just so I could put him on a train?”

“No,” Uther’s scowl grew. “Mr Emrys is here so that I can explain to him in minute detail what will happen if I find that he continues to pursue any form of relationship with the future King.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped. The threat in his father’s voice was obvious, and the implications of his words caused Arthur’s throat to tighten. “You wouldn’t hurt him.” Arthur sounded as confident as he felt.

Uther rose slowly to his feet, towering over his son, even from the other side of the wide desk. “I will take whatever course of action is necessary in order to protect this kingdom from your unwise decisions and adolescent behaviour. I will take whatever course of action is necessary to protect you from those decisions. Mr Emrys is dangerous, Arthur, I see that now. I will not have him sully the name of this family and the traditions we stand for.”

Arthur had always thought the idea of blood boiling existed solely in the realm of authors with a penchant for hyperbole; and yet here he was , a fire raging under his skin as every spiteful syllable of his father’s words needled at his conscience.

“You are the future King of Great Britain, Arthur! You will do as I say, and I forbid you to continue associating yourself w-”

“No!” Arthur roared suddenly, pushing out of the chair so suddenly that it clattered to the ground behind him. He allowed a split-second to pass where he enjoyed the startled expression on his father’s face, but then the fury was back and flames of rage licked at the edge of his control. “No.”

“No?” Uther barked.

“No,” Arthur repeated as he lowered his voice. “This isn’t the Middle Ages, you can’t just  _forbid_  something.”

“I can,” Uther replied, the dangerous glint back in his eyes. “And I will. It should be enough that Leon and Owain have been allowed to re main in your service when they knew of your deceit.”

Arthur stared at his father for a long moment, appalled. Every cruel word that had passed the King’s lips since Arthur’s childhood was thrown into sharp relief. Once again Uther Pendragon had shown that power and tradition took precedence over anything else; even the happiness of his children.

Morgana’s wariness to thaw her relationship with Uther and her refusal to call him Father unless in direct conversation suddenly made more sense to Arthur than at any other time in his life.

In that moment, Arthur felt his mother’s absence keenly.

In that moment, Arthur made his decision.

“Then I renounce my claim to your throne,” Arthur said carefully, stunned that the words didn’t hurt quite as much as he’d thought they would.

Uther’s face p aled and it would have been an understatement to suggest he was apoplectic with rage. “You will do no such thing!”

“Yes I will.” Arthur felt an almost unbearable lightness in his chest as he spoke. “It is my duty to act in the best interests of the people, and I believe they would rather see a Prince who acts in accordance with his conscience, than a King who bowed to the pressure of outdated convention. I’ll ensure Annis has a statement by morning. Your majesty.” He nodded his head in a final gesture of respect before turning away from his father.

“Arthur, you cannot do this.”

Arthur’s hand stilled on the doorknob at the slight pleading quality to Uther’s voice. He squared his shoulders and turned, his breath catching slightly at the sight of the King, hunched over the desk as he sank back into the chair, head in hands.

“You would do th is to me, Arthur?” Uther asked, his voice quieter than Arthur had ever heard it. “You would break a father’s heart?”

“You would break mine,” Arthur replied steadily. He curled his fingers again to still the tremor that would give him away.

Uther dropped his hands and looked at Arthur carefully. “You would give up the role you were born for, for such a selfish reason?”

Arthur smiled slightly at that as he thought of what Merlin would say if he knew what Arthur had just done. “A hundred times over. Perhaps I was never supposed to be King.”

“No, Arthur,” Uther sighed wearily, “you are. You  _are_  supposed to be King.”

Arthur waited for a long moment, but when Uther remained silent Arthur turned away from his father once more and left without another glance.

* * *

Merlin looked at Leon helplessly.

Leon looked back, his mouth agape in surprise.

“But…you can’t,” Merlin breathed, his attention turning back to Arthur. Arthur who had just announced exactly what had happened with his father. “You can’t…” He trailed off again as his brain scrabbled uselessly for something to say.

“I’m not willing to live under false pretences for the rest of my life,  _Mer_ lin.” Arthur shrugged, as if he hadn’t just made the biggest decision of his life, fondness clear when he smiled slightly.

_Oh God_ , not fondness. Merlin couldn’t cope with seeing  _fondness_ on Arthur’s face right now. The idiot had just given up his crown; given up the bloody destiny Merlin had been trying to protect.

“You prat!” Merlin shouted.

“Excuse me?” Arthur flinched, taking a step backwards in surprise.

“I’m just…”Leon trailed off, eyes wide with something akin to panic. “Oh, a door!”

Leon exited through said door as quickly as his trained legs could carry him.

Merlin was  _not_  impressed.

“You can’t just give up your claim to the throne, Arthur!” Merlin’s hands were in full-on ‘waving for emphasis’ mode.

“I think I just did,” Arthur replied. “I wasn’t going to agree to my father’s terms, Merlin.” Arthur’s eyes darkened at that and briefly Merlin wondered exactly what Uther had threatened him with.

“But y-“

“Merlin!” Arthur snapped in exasperation, grasping Merlin’s wrists tightly. “I’ve just given up the fucking throne. For you. Can you please try and help me continue thinking I’ve made the right choice?”

Merlin’s chest clenched at Arthur’s words.  _Oh Christ. Oh, oh, oh Christ_ , Arthur had really done this. Done this for  _him_. For  _Merlin_.

The Dragon was going to kill him.

Unless his mother got there first.


	3. Chapter 3

They actually got further than Arthur thought they would.

The gates had just been opened for them to drive through when the second man in the security cabin gestured for Leon to wait. He’d known he wouldn’t have been able to swan off into the sunshine without Uther calling him back for round two. And Arthur wouldn’t run,  _oh no_ , he was prepared for battle this time. The battle lines had been marked and step one was not giving Uther the satisfaction of just waiting at Sandringham.

“I thought it would have been the crossroads,” the prince muttered as Leon dutifully put the car into reverse.

“The front door,” Leon countered with a slight quirk of his lips.

“What?” Merlin frowned, tensing slightly beside Arthur as the car was turned around and once more they found themselves being driven back to the house .

“I thought my father would have summoned us back before we got to the crossroads,” Arthur explained. “Leon of little faith didn’t think we’d even get that far.”

“It’s always been the front door,” Leon added. “Although I seem to remember you didn’t make it as far as that when you opened that chest and f-“

“Yes, thank you, Leon,” Arthur barked slightly, ignoring the way Leon was grinning at him in the rear view mirror. “Can we focus on the fact that there’s a constitutional crisis in progress?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“You’re being very calm for someone who’s just attempted a pre-emptive abdication,” Merlin replied.

“And you’re being remarkably churlish for someone who is the reaso n for that attempt.” Arthur could feel his control fraying slightly at the edges. He knew that this was the reaction he should have expected, but it didn’t mean he had to like it.

Leon coughed. There was nowhere for him to run. Arthur noted that car began to travel beyond the Estate-imposed speed limit of ten miles per hour.

Merlin’s face darkened. “Do you want me to be happy about the fact you’ve just threatened to throw away your birthright? I know how much being King would mean to you, Arthur, so don’t act like this means nothing.”

“So you’d rather be sitting at the train station in King’s Lynn on your own now would you?” Arthur snapped. “Fuck, Merlin, do you honestly think I’d give it up if there was another way?”

The car screeched to a halt directly outside the main entrance to the House; well it would have screeched if it were less than perfectly engineered, Arthur thought mulishly, immaturity creeping to the surface. The wheels had kicked up enough to almost certainly inflict damage on the paintwork though, so he supposed he could console himself with that.

All three of them exited the car as if being chased by fire, to be immediately faced by an obsequious George (perhaps even more obsequious than usual if the curve of his lips was to be believed) awaiting their arrival.

Arthur grimaced as George bowed in a perfect example of wilful subservience. He had never been comfortable with the way some of his father’s staff treated him; there was a marked difference between those who had been employed under his mother’s remit, and those who had come after. Arthur no longer had any doubts about why that might be the case; Uther Pendragon had finally shown his true colours to his only son.

Arthur would not capitulate . Not this time.

“His Majesty the King requires your presence, Your Royal Highness,” George intoned reverently as his gaze settled just to the right of Arthur’s face.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply; something along the lines of ‘Kindly tell my father to bugger off’ hovering just on the tip of his tongue, warring with a innate sense of respect he couldn’t seem to shake.

George continued before Arthur had to voice his thoughts, however. “His Majesty has instructed Mr Emrys also attend his study.”

Merlin emitted a slightly strangled sound from the other side of the car and Arthur turned his head instinctively. He found a pair of very blue eyes looking back at him, the question ‘we’re totally fucked aren’t we?’ clear on Merlin’s face.

Arthur raised his chin as he turned back to George. “Kindly inform His Ma jesty that we will attend him presently.”

George bowed deferentially and Merlin scoffed.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow at him.

“ _We will attend him presently_?” Merlin’s lips curled into a grin. “And you said there was nothing to my Colin Firth theory.”

Arthur grimaced. Merlin had a bloody ridiculous theory about Arthur dropping into an impression of Colin Firth every time he conducted ‘princely duties’ (Merlin’s term) or was apologising. He coughed, adopting the air of a man who was studiously going to ignore stupid comments for the rest of the day.

This, of course, just made Merlin’s grin wider.

Leon sighed and muttered something too quietly for Arthur to decipher. He was sure he couldn’t have heard the phrase ‘bloody children’ though; Leon was far too professional for that .

* * *

Merlin thought back to the inscrutable glances that Uther had shot him across the conference table in Buckingham Palace almost a year ago. He now knew that those glances had been fuelled by an inkling that the relationship between the prince and Merlin was not quite the straightforward friendship he’d initially assumed it to be.

Merlin missed those glances. Well he didn’t  _miss_  them,  _per se_ , but he’d take them any day over the blood-curdling glare that was being directed at him as he perched in a chair opposite Uther’s desk. Merlin’s only reprieve from the stony glower came when Uther turned his head slightly and focused on Arthur instead. Furthermore, this awkward dance was interspersed with swift, but frequent, counterpoint glances at Arthur and Merlin’s joined hands. It was clear that Uther wasn’t ignoring this contact as he had done when they had raced to London after Morg ana’s collapse.

Arthur had insisted on twining their hands together as they’d practically marched their way down the gallery towards Uther’s private rooms. Merlin, in an attempt to prolong his life and preserve Arthur’s for as long as possible, had resisted valiantly. Arthur, being the stubborn prat he always was, had tightened his grasp to the point that every bone in Merlin’s hand began protesting.

Merlin realised he must have reached a low point in life when he would gladly take hand torture over his current situation.

“Do not presume to think I am pandering to your childish threat, Arthur,” Uther spat the words at his son and Merlin felt Arthur's fingers twitch.

“Of course not, father,” Arthur replied in what Merlin considered to be a remarkably steady voice considering Uther’s eyes were burning a hole in his son’s head. “Nor should you presume that I am willing to rescind my earlier comment.”

Merlin momentarily considered the pros and cons of wrenching his grasp from Arthur and shaking the prat for riling his father further.

He had only just started mentally listing the pros when Uther’s deathstare was suddenly levelled at Merlin.

Merlin  _did not_  gulp loudly. He was a sorcerer for goodness sake; he’d battled a griffin, and crazy sidhe and  _fuck, Uther wasn’t looking away_.

“Mr Emrys,” Uther’s lips curled into a snarl. “I’d be  _delighted_  to hear your thoughts on the Prince of Wales’ decision to turn his back on his birthright.”

 _Breathe Emrys,_ Merlin instructed himself.  _Remember, that’s where you take air in and then actually expel it rather than just holding on to it…like you’re doing right now.._

“It is the prince’s decision alone,” Merlin replied eventually. He was sure his voice wasn’t usually as high as it was in that moment, and it was definitely less breathy.

“I suppose you have not had anything to do with this decision then?” Uther snapped. He’d only blinked twice since looking at Merlin. Which was somewhat unnerving.

“It is Prince Arthur’s decision alone.” Merlin knew he wasn’t going to score any points with that answer, as it was effectively a variation on a theme.

“No,” Uther’s voice was dangerously low. “I suppose you’d rather he retained his position as heir to the throne as it would benefit you. And-”

“Enough,” Arthur’s voice was quiet, but firm.

Merlin would have sworn that he and Uther actually shared a moment of solidarity as t hey wondered just how insane Arthur actually was for cutting his father off.

“I cannot change the way I feel, father,” Arthur had completely stopped fidgeting beneath Merlin’s grasp. “I wouldn’t  _want_  to. I know this has come as a surprise to you. Believe me, it was quite a surprise to me as well.”

Merlin almost shared in the tiny laugh that escaped the prince’s lips.

“It would be an honour to serve this country as her King,” Arthur continued, his gaze unwavering as he met his father’s. “However, I will not deceive those who would look to me as their sovereign. My decision stands; I will withdraw all claims to the throne and entitlement if you do not feel that I would be a suitable monarch.”

When had this become Merlin’s life?  _How_? He vaguely recalled a time when he thought it strange to be invited to Christmas Dinner by the King – that was a standard day out compared to playing piggy in the middle to the two most senior members of the British Royal Family.

“You are aware, Arthur,” Uther’s voice seemed to have lost some of its edge at the surprisingly steady response of his son, “that you will be hounded by the press.”

“I am,” Arthur nodded.

“And you are aware of the difficult position you are placing me in?” Uther asked. “You are asking me to condone a relationship that will be frowned upon by many. You are flying in the face of tradition, and your choice directly contravenes the statutes of organisations of which you would be the figurehead.”

“Times are changing,” Arthur replied. “The world will not always be as it is today. The British monarchy doesn’t hold the same power as in the past, but is still in the position to lead by example. But father…” Arthur trailed off as his hand briefly tightened once more around Merlin’s. “Father, I am not asking you to  _condone_  anything.”

Silence reigned supreme for a long moment and Merlin allowed his eyes to dart around the room, taking in the details of Uther’s life. The study was shadowy, even in the afternoon sunshine; the dark wood panelling providing a stark contrast to the lightness of many of the other rooms Merlin had seen at Sandringham. Eventually his eyes settled on the small photo frame that sat on the edge of the desk. He couldn’t see the photo, but he could make an educated guess as to what he would see if he were to turn the frame around.

“Morgana would be a good queen.” Arthur was the one who shattered the silence eventually. “If the rules of succession were different she would be the natural heir anyway.”

Uther sighed tiredly at that, and Me rlin was surprised to see this hint of humanity under the mask of the stern faced tyrant he’d witnessed earlier. “Your sister has no desire to be queen. She will blithely decline, as you well know.”

Merlin chanced a sideways glance at the prince, and if the look on Arthur’s face was anything to go by it was clear that Uther’s suspicions of Morgana were not his alone.

“I do not wish to see Tristan as King,” Uther stated.

Merlin decided it was probably best not to point out that Uther wouldn’t likely see anyone as King as he’d be dead if it came to that.

“Your birth was ensured in order to continue the line of Pendragon,” Uther’s eyes trailed quickly to the photo Merlin had noticed. The flicker of hurt that appeared in the King’s eyes gave Merlin all the evidence he needed to confirm his notion that it was a photograph of Ygraine. “Y ou must be King, Arthur, or else your mother’s death would be in-“

“Don’t say that!” Arthur snapped, and the tremble in his hand was obvious even before he’d wrenched his hand from Merlin’s to slam his palms on the desk. “Do not try to use my mother against me.”

Uther actually looked appalled at the suggestion. “I would never do that,” he said quietly. “I meant that she would want to see her son grow into the sovereign he was born to be.”

“I will not bow to any edict you wish to create,” Arthur shook his head vehemently. “And I will not bow to guilt.”

Merlin had never seen Arthur like this. But, Merlin supposed, this was the Prince of Wales making his stand, not Arthur the immature, wonderful prat with a proclivity for Maltesers. A feeling quite like pride was warming Merlin’s chest, and he knew that he would damn any prophec y or destiny to hell if it meant keeping Arthur close.

“The public will not wish to see you flit from relationship to relationship,” Uther’s eyes flickered to Merlin for a brief moment.

“I have no intention of  _flitting_ ,” Arthur snapped, and Merlin found himself on the receiving end of Uther’s scrutiny once more.

“Your choice of relationship will never be a personal matter,” Uther continued speaking to his son, despite his attention remaining on the other boy. “At best you will face scrutiny for a few years, at worst you will be hounded for the rest of your life. Not just from the press.”

“My decision remains the same,” Arthur replied. “I will not choose the crown over personal happiness, despite how some might suggest the decision is a selfish one.”

Merlin had absolutely no idea where this conver sation was going. Uther looked as withdrawn as Merlin had ever seen him in the footage from Ygraine’s state funeral, but his eyes still held a defiant glint.

“I cannot accept your withdrawal, Arthur,” Uther replied, holding up his hand to cut off any argument from the younger Pendragon. “It is not as simple as you announcing you don’t want to play anymore.” His glare turned once more to Merlin. “Mr Emrys, I would like to speak to my son. In private.”

Merlin looked to Arthur. “Do you want me to stay, Arthur?”

Arthur looked torn for a moment, before shaking his head slightly. “No. It’s alright.”

Merlin stood, inclining his head slightly at Uther (that did earn him an inscrutable look) as he reached over to briefly grasp Arthur’s shoulder.

With a final nod from the prince, Merlin made his escape.

 

* * *

Arthur was shaking as he made his way out of his father’s study and he leant against the panelled wall of the gallery for a few moments in the hope it would stop his legs from giving out beneath him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, carefully counting to ten as he released it again.

Six months to prove his intent. That’s what his father had finally settled on. Six months to prove that Merlin wasn’t just a phase or infatuation; six months to prove that he was willing to deal with the difficulties he would face if he announced his relationship to the world. Six months to prove his personal decisions would never be to the detriment of his ability to lead.

And Arthur had agreed, because for all the bravado and bluster he’d managed to conjure that afternoon he did actually want to be King.

He’d agreed to it, and now he just had to hope that Mer lin wouldn’t want to kill him.

“It went that well?”

Arthur’s eyes snapped open to find Merlin standing an arm’s length away, his arms folded as his eyes searched the prince’s face in concern.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, gently tugging on Arthur’s shirt cuff.

Arthur blinked a few times. “Tea?”

Merlin smiled slightly. “So we’re going to be truly British in our handling of the situation?”

Arthur smiled despite himself. “Of course.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin?” Arthur reached out and prodded the top of Merlin’s head. He’d finished explaining everything a couple of minutes ago, and Merlin hadn’t reacted beyond dropping his head onto his folded arms. “Merlin?”

A grunt was his only answer.

Arthur slouched in his chair, pushing a biscuit around the plate in front of him. Enid had delivered it with a warm embrace upon spotting the prince leading Merlin into the parlour.

“I don’t understand this family,” Merlin grumbled, running his palms over his face as he finally sat up to face Arthur.

“You’ve only known us for a couple of years. You’ll get used to it,” Arthur responded with a sigh.  _God_ , two years?

“Yeah, well it feels like a lifetime,” Merlin replied, “several actually.”

Arth ur quirked an eyebrow when Merlin frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Merlin shook himself slightly. “Other than the obvious.”

Arthur winced. “Wrong decision?”

“No,” Merlin sighed, snaffling a particularly jammy biscuit. “But you do realise what you’ve agreed to, don’t you?”

Yes, Arthur  _did_  know what he’d agreed to. Uther had been very clear with the conditions. “Yes.”

“You realise you’ve effectively signed me up for princess lessons?”

Arthur wrinkled his nose. “They won’t be  _princess lessons_ ,  _Mer_ lin. But if we’re going to do this, it’s only fair that you also get a lifetime’s worth of protocol rammed down your throat. Morgana’s going to love this…”

“Fuck,” Merlin laughed loudly.

“What?” Arthur hadn't been sure of how Merlin was going to take the news of his agreement with his father. Hysterical laughter  _had_  featured on the list of possibilities, but was much lower than Merlin throwing something at Arthur’s head; and lower still than Merlin deciding it would be reasonable to vaporise Uther (or Arthur) with magic.

“You’ve practically promised your father you’ll never get involved with anyone but me,” Merlin laughed again. “Ever.”

Arthur watched, grimacing slightly, as realisation flitted across Merlin’s face, followed by horror and then discomfort as he started choking on the biscuit he’d inhaled.

“Ah,” Merlin managed with a splutter as he eventually recovered. “Fine. Too soon to joke about that.”

“I think I was happier when I’d decided I didn’t want to be King.” Arthur ran his fi ngers through his hair. That wasn’t true, and he knew Merlin would see right through it.

“Liar,” Merlin replied. “It’s your destiny.”

“And who would I be to shirk destiny,” Arthur shrugged, a slight smile tugging on his lips.

“Arthur?” Merlin grinned.

“Yes, Merlin?”

“When we get back to London there’s someone you need to meet.”


	4. Chapter 4

The tang of blood caught the back of Merlin’s throat as he coughed desperately, his lungs heaving as he pressed himself closer to the ground. The slightly damp mud was almost blissful, cooling his burning skin as he willed himself not to give into the curling in tendrils of darkness at the edge of his consciousness.

_“No,” he moaned against the dirt; this whimpered denial only a shadow of the inhuman howl that had been torn from his soul only moments earlier. “No.”_

_The sounds of the battle raged around him. Yelling in English, French, Italian and a myriad of other languages that Merlin had no care to ponder on or understand. They all screamed variations of the same word anyway._

_**Victory!** _

_But it was not a victory Merlin could celebrate._

_He had failed. Failed as he had before, countless times. His magic had not been enough. **He**  had not been enough._

_The Duke he had carried a banner for was triumphant at last. But the man who Merlin had truly fought for, **had always fought for** , lay still, unaware of the victory he had ensured._

_Merlin forced himself up on to shaking elbows, pleading with any power that would listen that when he turned around again he would find alert blue eyes looking back at him instead of the pale, troubled face that had slipped into a deathmask._

_“Arthur,” Merlin sobbed as he reached out trembling hands to trail over the red fabric of his Captain’s military jacket. There was no heartbeat, no breath to give a curt order underlined with just a hint of fondness._

_Hands tugged at him, pulling him away from the body. “No!”_

_“Merlin!”_

_“Leave me!” A guttural, anguished cry burst from his lips as he wrenched himself away from the strong hands curling around his arms._

_“Jesus Christ. **Merlin**!”_

Merlin’s eyes flew open and he hurled himself forward, only to find he was being restrained. His heart hammered in his chest as he scrabbled against the grip across his chest and over his hip.

“Merlin! Fuck. It was a dream. It was just a dream.”

The words filtered into Merlin’s consciousness and his mind slowly processed the meaning. He looked down to see his hands clutching at the seatbelt.

A hand touched his cheek gently and Merlin jerked away in surprise, blinking the memories out of his eyes before Arthur came into focus.

“Arthur,” Merlin gasped brokenly. “Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.”

Arthur’s face crumpled towards devastation as Merlin reached out for him. Merlin found himself crushed against the prince’s chest awkwardly as he took great gulping breaths.

“Jesus, Merlin.” Merlin could feel the words breathed into his hair when Arthur spoke. “What the hell were you dreaming about?”

Merlin didn’t reply, fully aware of the hot, burning trails that snaked down his cheeks, licking at his lips to taste salt and fear. He tried to avoid blinking as the backs of his eyelids were indelibly marked with the image of a lifeless Arthur sprawled on his back in the middle of a French battlefield.

“It was a dream,” Arthur repeated. “It was just a dream.”

 _No, it wasn’t!_  Merlin wanted to scream. But the thought itself was enough to terrify him into silence.

* * *

“Is he alright?”

Leon’s quiet question startled Arthur out of his reverie. The prince looked down at Merlin’s sleeping form. A fragile sense of peace had descended on the car since Merlin had drifted back into slumber a few minutes earlier, after almost an hour of strained silence.

“He keeps having nightmares,” Arthur replied, a slightly helpless edge apparent in his tone. “He won’t tell me what they’re about.”

“I think you’ve probably got a good idea of what  _that_  one was about,” Leon replied, glancing quickly at Arthur as he pulled the car into the middle lane of the motorway.

Arthur blanched again. He’d never heard such a tormented cry from anyone or anything in his life, and he ran a hand over his face to try and dispel the memory of the sound bursting from Merlin’s lips.  _Arth ur_. He’d cried as if he’d lost everything, and Arthur’s own heart had been thudding painfully as Merlin had thrashed around; what had been going through Merlin’s mind to provoke such a reaction? Arthur wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

“Do you think it’s got anything to do with…you know,” Leon tilted his head slightly.

“Magic?” Arthur mused aloud. “I don’t know. He’s not the only one who can’t sleep properly though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been having weird dreams since Christmas,” Arthur replied, feeling somewhat relieved that he could share this information with someone else. “I don’t remember anything really, but when I wake up there’s always a sense of….I don’t know.”

“Side effect of what happened in London?”

“Probably,” Arthur agreed eventually, although the answer didn’t sit right in his bones.

_This was Merlin and Arthur. It was never going to be that simple._

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur had reluctantly left Merlin ensconced in the library almost as soon as they had arrived back at Kensington. The prince was fully aware of the haunted look on Merlin’s face as he’d pressed a book into his hands and told him he had to speak to Morgana, but he needed to have this conversation with his sister on his own.

He knocked on the door to his sister’s study and waited.

“Usually you barge in,” Morgana rolled her eyes as she opened the door, but her face softened as she took in Arthur’s expression. “What’s happened?”

“Manners, Morgana,” Arthur grinned tiredly, secretly thrilled that Morgana remained constant even when everything else felt like it was going to hell. “Can I least sit down first?”

Morgana’s frown deepened, but she opened the door wider and gestured silently for him to take a se at.

Arthur sank gracelessly into the slightly threadbare wingback chair that Morgana had procured from their mother’s rooms at Buckingham Palace. It was Morgana’s favourite piece of furniture, yet she had never begrudged Arthur choosing to sit in it every time he visited her apartment.

“I renounced my claim to the throne,” Arthur stated when Morgana took a seat opposite him.

Her eyes widened to the point of being comical, and Arthur was sure this was the first time in his life he’d ever seen his sister truly speechless. He watched as Morgana’s mouth opened and closed uselessly a number of times before she finally gave up and just stared at him.

“Relax,” he laughed slightly, “Father knows you don’t want to be Queen.”

“Tristan then?” Morgana eventually managed to choke out. “Tristan and his ghastly family?"

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “Not yet, at least.”

“Why did you do that, Arthur?” Morgana appeared to have finally regained the ability to speak. “What did he say to make y-  _Oh...”_ she trailed off and Arthur could see she had reached the correct conclusion. “ _Merlin_.”

Arthur had always been fiercely proud of his sister, not that he’d tell her of course, but it warmed him to see that sense of protection mirrored in her eyes as she spoke.

“We’ve reached a compromise,” Arthur said. “There’s a chance I won’t need to relinquish my title.”

“A compromise?” Morgana scoffed. “With Uther?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Arthur ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the need to just leave and check Merlin hadn’t drifted back into whatever world his mind had ventured into earlier.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Morgana folded her arms and Arthur was vaguely aware that he’d adopted the same position. Maybe one of Merlin’s numerous theories actually had some merit…

“It was either that or…” It was Arthur’s turn to trail off, pursing his lips in distaste as he did so.

Morgana laughed softly. “Arthur Pendragon giving up his crown for love. I never imagined that. Then again, I’d never imagined Merlin.”

Arthur squirmed slightly under the adoration in Morgana’s eyes. They’d never been a pair for baring their souls to each other, but he supposed this was a rather unique set of circumstances. “He is worth it, isn’t he?”

“Are you honestly asking for confirmation?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head with a small sm ile.

“Well there’s your answer,” Morgana replied, a grin of her own lighting up her face with a happiness Arthur hadn’t seen in such a long time. “Dare I ask what the terms of your agreement with Uther are?”

“You won’t be able to escape them, I’m afraid,” Arthur scrunched up his nose slightly. “You’re actually quite integral to my success.”

“Oh bloody hell,” Morgana sighed in exasperation. “Just tell me.”

“I’ve got six months to prove that this isn’t a phase,” Arthur explained, carefully avoiding his sister’s eyes. “I’m not worried about dealing with the media, I’m not even worried about dealing with the bloody Commonwealth. But this is basically feeding Merlin to the wolves if we don’t ensure he’s ready. He needs to know how to act. Not as a friend of the family. As  _part_  of the family.”

Morgana fixed Arthur with a steady gaze when he eventually looked back up. She was silent for a long moment before seemingly coming to a decision. “You want me to give Merlin Princess lessons, don’t you?”

Arthur choked as his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “What? That’s what Merlin said!”

Morgana smirked. “He’s right.”

“They wouldn’t be Princess lessons, Morgana,” Arthur threw his hands up. Why did he end up dealing with the most difficult people on the planet? “You offered him a job so you’ll be seeing him on a regular basis.”

“So will you,” Morgana countered. “You know just as much about protocol as I do.”

“But he’ll actually listen to you,” Arthur admitted eventually. “That, and I’d feel better if I knew Merlin had you to help. I can’t bugger this up, Morg ana.” He added the last part so quietly that he was afraid his sister wouldn’t actually hear him. Arthur Pendragon didn’t particularly like asking for help, but there was no way he could do this on his own.

“Of course I’ll help,” Morgana stated, as if there’d never been any doubt about her involvement. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, grasping his sister’s hand. He didn’t use those two words often, but when he did he meant them.

* * *

Merlin had a headache. A real, right-behind-the-eyes, throbbing-every-time-he-moved  _headache._  He considered moving from the sofa Arthur had all but pushed him onto earlier in order to search for painkillers, but the thought of moving at all filled him with horror.

It hadn’t been a dream in the car, the same way it hadn’t been a dream when he’d woken days earlier drenched in sweat with the sounds of exploding mortars ringing in his ears and the scent of decay and filth pervading his nostrils. The same way it hadn’t been a dream when he’d been plagued by images of a bloody battlefield, Merlin looking down as men fought for their lives with swords and shields on the plain below.

There were two common denominators for each of his ‘dreams’ – his own presence, and that of Arthur.

Actually, there were three common denominators if hi s body didn’t jerk him awake quickly enough. If the dreams continued for too long Merlin would inevitably find himself faced with Arthur’s death.

He shivered, wrapping the blanket from the back of the chair tightly round his shoulders as he tried not to think about the scenes he’d witnessed earlier that day.

Merlin had a whole heap of other things he should be worrying about anyway. He’d composed a list while he’d been waiting for Arthur to return, and had actually written it down just to give himself something to focus on. Although perhaps focusing on something that confirmed the fact you were about to sign your life away wasn’t the wisest choice.

The door to the library creaked open and Merlin was pleased to see Morgana smiling at him, steaming cup of tea in hand.

“Well, Merlin,” Morgana said as she handed over the cup, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “I suppose I should congratulate you on ruining Uther’s day. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Merlin couldn’t help laughing. “You’ve taught me well.”

Morgana grinned briefly, but as her eyes roamed over his face Merlin saw the delight fade into concern.

“I’m fine, Morgana,” Merlin nodded slightly as he took a sip of tea, trying not to flinch as he burnt his tongue.

“Arthur told me what happened in the car,” Morgana was choosing her words carefully, that was clear. “Merlin, if your dreams are anything like the ones I was having last year you must tell me. You can’t keep things like that in your head.”

“I didn’t want him to tell you,” Merlin sighed.

“If Arthur hadn’t told me, Leon would have,” Morgana stated and Merlin narrowed his eyes slightly as the princess looked away quickly as if she hadn’t quite meant to say that.

“Leon’s a traitor,” Merlin scoffed, trying not to grin as a subtle hint of pink appeared on Morgana’s cheekbones. “Oh, are we going to have another public relations crisis on our hands?” he snorted when Morgana’s blush intensified.

Morgana, however, was used to sparring, and simply narrowed her eyes. “Princess lessons, Merlin.”

 _Touché_. Merlin conceded the point as Morgana’s threat was made clear in the arch of one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Merlin held up his free hand. “I’ll shut up.”

“You will talk to me though, won’t you, Merlin?” Morgana asked eventually.

Merlin nodded. “There’s someone I need to see first, but when I’ve done that I promise I’ll speak to you. There are…t hings you should know.” He placed the cup carefully on the coffee table and ran his hands across his forehead with a slight grimace.

“Headache?”

“You could say that,” Merlin smiled sardonically.

“I’ll get you some paracetamol,” Morgana rose quickly. “Arthur might be a while; Annis called him shrieking some manner of blue murder.”

“Ouch,” Merlin scrunched up his face in sympathy.

“Exactly,” Morgana smiled as she headed for the door.

“Morgana?”

“Mmm?”

Merlin braced himself slightly. “How was Arthur about your…magic?”

Morgana looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment, her hand paused on the doorknob. “He was angry I’d kept it from him and that I hadn’t trusted him. But he was never angry about the fact I had magic.” Her face creased into another frown. “Why? Has he said something about your magic? Because I-”

“No,” Merlin reassured her quickly as Morgana was likely to hunt down her brother and punish him immediately. “No, it’s just…he hasn’t really said anything. And now it’s going to be even more important to keep it a secret. The King would have my head.”

Morgana considered his words. “Maybe he wants you to explain it to him. Arthur’s terrible at asking, you should know that by now.”

* * *

There were times when Arthur thought Merlin was more than a little bit mad. Having just skulked across Hyde Park in the inky darkness of almost-midnight, Arthur was changing his definition from ‘more than a little bit mad’ to ‘as mad as a box of frogs.’ Also, had he mentioned this was all in the middle of a torrential downpour as well? Oh, and that it hadn’t taken Merlin much time at all to persuade Leon to stay behind.

“Merlin, this is more than a bit bloody ridiculous,” Arthur’s teeth chattered as Merlin began clambering down the bank next to The Serpentine. His knee was starting to twinge again which was not doing much for his mood. “If you fall in, I won’t jump in after you.”

“Yes you would,” Merlin replied, and Arthur could practically hear the grin that accompanied that statement.

Arthur, because he was feeling immatur e and more than a little bit stressed after a four-hour marathon phone call with Clarence House’s Press Vulture (his new name for Annis), satisfied himself by indulging in a poor impersonation of Merlin. “Arthur, now really is the best time to go outside. It’s raining? Perfect, let’s go. I’m  _positive_  it’s a good idea to crawling around near the w-“

Whatever Arthur was going to say next flew straight out of his head at the same time as the startled ‘oomph’ he wheezed when his back hit the soggy grass. He didn’t quite register the fact that he was skidding helplessly towards the murky Serpentine before he found himself suspended, mid-slide only scant inches from the water.

“Arthur?” Merlin sounded quite uncertain as he appeared next to the prince.

“Merlin, did you just use-“

“Yes.”

“ _Mer em >lin!” Arthur’s eyes widened._

“I can let you go for a midnight swim if you really want to,” Merlin was trying to joke, but Arthur could see the hesitation.

“Just help me get up,” Arthur replied, scrabbling backwards slightly as Merlin tugged him to the relative safety of the bridge’s structure.

“Sorry,” Merlin whispered when Arthur was standing next to him once more.

Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned forward to catch Merlin’s lips in a quick kiss. “Shut up.”

When Arthur pulled away with a grin, he realised where he was standing. “Oh bloody hell, we’re going into the bridge, aren’t we? Why won’t you just tell me who we’re going to see?”

“Because you wouldn’t believe me if I did,” Merlin replied. He held his hand out and whispered something Arthur didn’t unders tand.

Arthur shivered slightly as he felt another change in the air around him. He wondered vaguely if he’d always been aware of Merlin’s magic on some level, but quickly dismissed the thought. He hadn’t known. He  _should_ have known. And even though he was trying very hard to ignore the fact that he was still somewhat hurt about that, the appearance of a secret door in a wall he saw almost every day still squeezed at his heart.

“Ready?” Merlin asked, and that awful uncertain tone was back.

Arthur nodded and followed Merlin blindly into the dark of the bridge, the door sliding shut behind them with nothing more than a quiet hiss. When Merlin didn’t move any further Arthur began to question his decision to agree to this little mission. “Er…Merlin? Are we just going to stand in the dark?”

“No,” Merlin replied, “but I don’t want to light a torch if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would switching on a torch make you-“ Arthur cut himself off as Merlin whispered something to cause the head of a wooden torch to burst into flame before him. “Ah… _light_  a torch, not  _switch on_ a torch. I should have seen that one coming.”

“Is this okay?” Merlin asked, looking like Arthur’s answer to this question mattered more than anything they’d discussed before.

Arthur’s pulse was betraying him as his heart thundered in his chest at the sight of the flames. He swallowed heavily; he would be fine with this. He’d already promised Merlin that it would be okay, and he wasn’t going to break that promise. Ever. He nodded silently and reached out a hand to Merlin.

Merlin smiled, a look of relief passing over his face as he twined his fingers with Arthur and tu gged him down the tunnel.

“Can I at least have a clue?” Arthur asked when Merlin suddenly stopped walking a few moments later.

“Arthur,” Merlin said seriously, “promise me you won’t freak out. Actually, no, don’t promise me that because that would be a stupid thing to ask.”

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t hate me for keeping this from you.”

Arthur frowned. “I’m not going to hate you, Merlin.”

“Remember that,” Merlin said as he squared his shoulders and tugged Arthur around the final corner.

* * *

Merlin was beginning to worry. Arthur hadn’t said anything for nigh on two minutes, and the Dragon was definitely smirking at the prince.

“Arthur?” Merlin tried quietly.

“That’s a dragon, isn’t it?” Arthur’s expressions was suspended somewhere between horror and confusion. “An actual…dragon.”

“I see you’ve retained your sharp mind, young prince,” the Dragon scoffed.

Merlin mentally kicked himself – he needed to stop attributing human verbs to the Dragon. Particularly ones that just made said (apparently) mythical creature sound like a grumpy old man who knew something you didn’t know and was  _thoroughly_  enjoying taunting you with that fact.

“Merlin,” Arthur looked slightly pained as he turned to the other boy. “How long have you known that there’ s a dragon living under Hyde Park?”

“Er…” Merlin trailed off as he shrugged sheepishly. “Quite a long time?”

Arthur nodded slowly, biting his lip. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Merlin repeated, surprised. He was aware that the Dragon was looking between the two of them as Arthur suffered some for of mental breakdown. Merlin caught the flicker of the explosion in Arthur’s eyes just before-

“You  _idiot!_ ” Arthur bellowed, throwing his arms up as he stalked towards Merlin. “There’s a fire-breathing creature living under a Royal Park and you didn’t think to mention this fact earlier?”

“It wasn’t really relevant,” Merlin kept his tone as light as possible for someone faced with an enraged prince.

“It could  _kill_  people!” Arthur yelled.

"That time of my life is long gone, young Pendragon,” the Dragon yawned. “I have no interest in visiting the world above.”

“Why are you here?” Arthur demanded turning to the Dragon.

 _Oh great_ , Merlin thought,  _here we go…_

“Do not presume I will answer your questions, princeling, “ the Dragon sneered.

“ _Princeling?_ ” Arthur baulked.

“I am here because of Emrys,” the Dragon continued in a steadier voice as he watched Arthur flail in indignation.

“ _Mer_ lin?” Arthur pointed at the other boy.

“Emrys.” the Dragon repeated. “Which even  _you_ , young Pendragon, will in time come to learn is an important distinction.”

Arthur looked put out but kept silent. Merlin took this as his chanc e to engage the Dragon’s attention.

“I need to know more about the past,” Merlin said, ignoring the sharp look Arthur sent his way. “There are too many coincidences, and far too many dangers that remain unknown. Arthur needs to understand.”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur nudged Merlin none too gently.

“How would you feel if I told you that you were, in fact, not just Arthur, but the Once and Future King?” Merlin shrugged. Perhaps by treating it as if it wasn’t a big deal, Arthur would just –  _oh, okay no, Arthur was folding his arms and glaring._

“What?” Arthur’s tone was dangerously low.

Merlin turned to the Dragon. “You explain it. He can’t kill  _you_.”

The Dragon sighed and Merlin knew exactly how he felt.


	5. Chapter 5

According to a  _Tatler_ poll conducted on the eve of the Prince of Wales’ twenty-third birthday, the majority of the British public would describe Arthur Pendragon as ‘affable’ and ‘charming’. Furthermore, he had been once again crowned Eligible Bachelor of the Year (after a scandalous drop to second place behind the Duke of Orkney in 2011) and, now that he seemed to have abandoned his rebellious ways, was widely-regarded as a level-headed and considerate young man.

Clearly the general public had never witnessed Arthur Pendragon sneering at a mythical creature at one in the morning.

“King Arthur?” The Prince curled his lip in distaste. “King Arthur is nothing more than a legend.”

“I was under the impression you were a student of history,” the Dragon replied, remarkably jovially considering he had already threatened to singe the ‘young upstart’ g laring at him four times since they’d started this discussion twenty minutes earlier.

Arthur narrowed his eyes further, allowing a moment to shoot a filthy glance in Merlin’s direction. “I was a student of history.  _History_ , not myth.”

The Dragon released a noise that could be construed as a laugh, and Arthur wondered if he’d finally gone mad. How could a dragon be laughing? Although, he supposed ‘how could a dragon  _exist_?’ would be a more appropriate question. His traitorous mind suggested that perhaps myth shouldn’t be shrugged off so lightly…not when he had a legendary creature guffawing at him.

“Oh there are many legends about Arthur,” the Dragon continued oblivious to, or  _ignoring_ , the internal dialogue of the prince. “And many more so of Merlin, the great wizard who helped his King to unite the lands of Albion.”

Arthur looked at Merlin who was still studiously ignoring him from where he was leaning against the wall of the cavern.

“Most of what is written is completely fictitious, of course.” The Dragon shifted slightly and Arthur felt the ground tremble slightly in response. “The Legend and the Truth are not the same. You, young prince, are a fixed marker in history, as is Merlin, and as is  _Emrys_. You exist outside of the natural cycle of life, and will do so until Destiny assumes her fill.”

Arthur scoffed slightly. “You can’t expect me to believe that I’ve lived before and d-” He cut himself off abruptly in favour of looking at Merlin again, this time with a sense of realisation; a horrifying,  _gut-wrenching_  sense of realisation. “Your dreams?”

Merlin finally acknowledged the prince’s presence and nodded curtly.

“Fuck, ” Arthur whispered as he ran a hand over his face, his palm clamping against his mouth as his breath hitched slightly.

“You, Arthur Pendragon, are the Once and Future King,” the Dragon stated calmly. “The Legends are correct in that respect.”

Arthur searched for an argument, there  _had_  to be an argument against this. He couldn’t allow his entire understanding of the world, of his own life, to be upended at arse o’clock in the morning in a bloody secret cave. Something, something, something… _Ah!_

“And nobody has noticed that I keep popping up throughout history?” He gestured his hands to suggest quote marks when he said ‘I’. He hoped that the motion was universally understood, even by dragons. “I don’t recall seeing too many King Arthur’s in academic texts.”

“Of course it is natural for  _you_  to as sume that you would always be royalty.” The dragon tilted his head slightly, ignoring Arthur’s look of bafflement. “Do you not find it strange that nobody has ever really questioned your name? “

Arthur frowned. “Well, n-“

The Dragon cut him off. “You bear the name of a legendary figure, and yet tell me, Arthur, how many people have remarked upon that?”

Arthur thought for a moment and was unhappy with the answer he came up with. “Not many.”

“And how many commented on the fact that you have an acquaintance named Merlin?”

Arthur looked at Merlin; the other boy was still staring at him with an irritatingly inscrutable look on his face as he too listened to the dragon’s reasoning. “Not many.”

“No indeed,” the Dragon agreed, and he was  _definitely_ smirking. “Only a h andful of people are aware of the past. There is powerful magic woven into the earth to ensure the cycle of Fate is not impinged by the interference of those not involved directly in events. Most people will never truly make the connection; feeling only a momentary awareness that perhaps there’s something they can’t quite remember.”

“I’m not aware of the past,” Arthur replied when he eventually turned back to the Dragon. “I have no recollection beyond that of my lifetime,  _this_  lifetime.”

“True.”

“Why not?”

Arthur frowned again as the Dragon’s eyes shifted their focus to Merlin.

“It has something to do with me,” Merlin was watching the Dragon carefully.

“All in good time,” the Dragon replied serenely, and Arthur dearly wanted to yell at it.

“I need to know more,” Merlin had straightened his spine and was glowering at the creature. He tilted his chin up and added, “You will tell me.”

Arthur held back the smile he wanted to give in response to Merlin staring down an enormous beast as if he did it all the time.  _Worryingly_ , Arthur supposed,  _he **might**  do this all the time._

“All in good time,” the Dragon repeated. “Although it would not do you, or the young prince, any harm to read the only true, surviving account of King Arthur’s reign.”

Arthur kept quiet. His life was getting stranger by the day, and at some point, he just knew he was going to have to give into all this madness.

“Where will we find it?” Merlin asked.

“Where nobody would ever look for it,” the Dragon replied.

Arthur grow led in frustration. “Are you always this cryptic?” He turned to Merlin. “Is he  _always_  this cryptic?”

Merlin smiled slightly. “This is him being helpful.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and glowered at the creature before him. “We’re not going to be able to find it unless you give us more of a clue than that.”

“It is hidden in plain sight,” the Dragon responded coolly. “The book remains the property of the British Museum. Not that the curators are aware of its existence, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Arthur scoffed. “A secret book in one of the most famous museums in the world. Why w-”

“Shut up,” Merlin said quietly, and Arthur did as he was told.

“I am merely giving you the facts to help yourselves,” the Dragon sighed. “A time of great change is dawning.”

“What’s the name of the book?” Merlin asked.

“You will know it when you see it.”

Arthur dropped his head onto his chest.  _Why was this never easy?_

* * *

Merlin was quite tempted to try and smother Arthur with his pillow just to provoke a reaction. The bloody git hadn’t said more than two words since they’d left the cavern and made their way back to the palace. And now Arthur was pretending to be asleep.

“I know you’re awake,” Merlin said tersely, enormously pleased when he saw Arthur twitch slightly.

Arthur’s left eye cracked open and Merlin stared back silently.

“Any other surprises you want to spring on me?” Arthur asked eventually as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“You know very well I couldn’t tell you about the dragon before,” Merlin replied.

“You’ve had plenty of time to tell me,” Arthur pursed his lips. “You could have told me before we left tonight.”

“Yes, because you react  _so_  well every time I tell you anything about magic.” The words tumbled from Merlin’s mouth before he could stop them.

Arthur set his jaw as his eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t quick enough to hide the flash of hurt at Merlin’s comment. “Thanks.”

“God, I didn’t-“ Merlin cut himself off as he sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wanted to tell you. I do  _want_  to tell you everything.”

Arthur was silent for a long moment before shuffling off the bed. “Maybe not right now, hmm?”

“Arthur?” Merlin frowned as the prince shrugged on a hoodie and padded towards the bedroom door.

Arthur paused with his hand on the doorknob. His shoulders were slumped forward, his head almost resting on the wood, and he was silent for a long moment. “You’ve had time to dea l with… _this_ already. I’m asking you for the same courtesy.”

“Arthur, I-“

“Tomorrow, Merlin,” Arthur replied, still not turning around. “Maybe. But not right now.” With that he opened the door and slipped quietly out into the hallway.

Merlin blew out a frustrated breath as he heard a door open and close softly in the distance. “Well done,” he congratulated himself as he dropped back onto the pillows, ignoring the dull pain in the back of his skull. “You fucked that up brilliantly.”

God, he needed to get that book. If Arthur was going to understand this, hell if  _Merlin_  was going to understand this properly, they needed that book. He knew what Arthur was like; the historian in him wanted primary sources, not just the hearsay of a smug beast with wings.

However, stealing an artefact from the B ritish Museum was rather outside of the plans Merlin had made for his last week of freedom before starting his new job. Then again so was becoming public enemy number one in the eyes of the King,  _and_ becoming the target of Clarence House’s wrath (if Arthur’s mumbled comments about Annis’ plans were anything to go by).

He couldn’t get Arthur involved just in case they were caught removing a book that nobody was supposed to have any knowledge of. Arthur already had one arrest under his belt; it really wasn’t the time to add another.

Equally, Merlin would have to be very,  _very_  careful about using magic in such a public place.

What he needed was a distraction. Something to take all eyes away from boring old Merlin Emrys.

He turned his head slightly and was pleased to see that Arthur had left his phone on the bedside table. Merlin reached out his hand and grasped the phone, entering Arthur’s super-secret-not-to-be-given-out-to-anyone-on-pain-of-death security codes quickly. The Security Team would kill both of them if they knew that Arthur had casually informed Merlin of all four codes over breakfast the day after Christmas.

Wincing as he looked at the clock,  _two-seventeen am_ , Merlin scrolled through Arthur’s contacts until he found the name he wanted and pressed ‘call’.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was trying not to look suspicious. So of course that meant he looked like a man on a nefarious mission. He leaned against the wall of the Museum Tavern, glancing at his watch as he tapped his foot nervously.

He’d left Kensington without speaking to Arthur, knowing that there was no way he’d manage to escape once the prince cottoned on to Merlin’s plan. Something must have shown on his face as he exited the house through the direct door into Hyde Park because Leon hadn’t even tried to ask him where he was going.

The benefit of not currently being in possession of a phone was that it was going to take people longer to track him to Bloomsbury. The downside was that he had no way of getting in touch with anybody if he needed them.

It was after ten-thirty now and there was still no sign of-

“Merlin!”

Merlin’s head snapped to the left with such speed his breath caught and he had to cough a few times before he could respond.

“Gwaine!” He croaked out.

Gwaine grinned and shook his head as he clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Don’t sound so surprised to see me. You’re the one who called at half-two, after all.”

“Sorry about that,” Merlin grinned as Gwaine wrapped him in a brief hug.

Gwaine shrugged. “Just be glad El slept through it. She gets cranky.”

Merlin laughed as Gwaine shuddered slightly.

“So…” Gwaine ran a hand through his hair. “Are you going to tell me what I’m doing here? Not that it’s not lovely to see you, obviously.”

“Right, of course.” Merlin paused for a second. “Okay, this is going to sound a bit mad.”

Gwaine laughed. “I’m sort of used to that with you, to be honest.”

Merlin couldn’t help but grin. “This is more mad than usual.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“I need you to help me steal something from the British Museum.”

Gwaine’s eyes widened and he looked at Merlin as if waiting for the punch line. Not seeing one forthcoming a crease appeared on his forehead. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Merlin nodded slowly.

“Fuck,” Gwaine laughed. “Why?”

“I can’t really explain that,” Merlin replied. “But I swear I wouldn’t ask you if I could think of anything else. You’re my only hope on this one.” He was sure Gwaine looked oddly proud of that fact. “You don’t actually have to do any of the stealing, but I really need you to create a distraction.”

“I’m good at those,” Gwaine shrugged, his eyes still sparkling with the promise of a challenge. “Where’s the Princess though? I thought you two would be joined at the hip at this stage.”

“Arthur doesn’t know about this,” Merlin admitted. “Well he knows about it, but he doesn’t really  _know_  about it. In that he won’t be expecting m-“

“Merlin,” Gwaine scrunched up his nose slightly as he held up a hand to cut off Merlin’s ramble. “I don’t know exactly what happened between you two last year, but…Arthur was completely fucked for months afterwards. I mean, we all…” He trailed off with a wave of his hand. “This isn’t going to-“

“No,” Merlin shook his head vehemently. “Look, it’s really,  _really_  complicated and I’ll explain what I can. But first, f or Arthur’s sake, I’ve got to get this book.”

“A book?” Gwaine looked so unimpressed Merlin would have laughed if the situation wasn’t quite so dire. “You get me all excited about being involved in a… _heist,_  and it’s for a book?”

“Yes, a book,” Merlin replied, clearly dashing all hopes of whatever  _Ocean’s Eleven_ -esque fantasy sequence Gwaine had concocted in his mind. “What did you think it was going to be?”

Gwaine shrugged. “I don’t know. A sarcophagus or something?”

“Yes, because that would be subtle.”

“Or…I don’t know, a sword!”

“A sword?” Merlin straightened. “Why?”

“Because they’re cool,” Gwaine replied slowly as he tipped his head towards the museum’s entrance gate. “And you know, the who le King Arthur and Excalibur thing.”

“ _What?_ ” Merlin almost tripped in front of a taxi.

“Jesus, Merlin,” Gwaine shook his head against as he reached out a hand to keep Merlin safely on the pavement.

“King Arthur?”

“Yeah,” Gwaine replied slowly. “Because Princess is called Arthur, and he’s going to be King. And weirdly you’re called Merlin. So it fits.” Gwaine frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Merlin replied hurriedly. “We should go inside.”

 _Bloody hell_ , Merlin thought as he and Gwaine weaved their way through the tourists already amassed on the museum steps. For an English Literature graduate he couldn’t believe he’d missed it.

Gwaine. Gawain.  _Fuck_.

“So where’s this book? Gwaine asked as they stepped into the warmth of the museum.

“I have no idea,” Merlin shook his head. “That’s part of the problem.”

Gwaine sighed. “Can you ask anyone, I don’t know,  _surreptitiously_?”

Merlin scrunched up his face. “I also…don’t know what the book’s actually called. And nobody knows it’s here anyway. Apparently I’ll know it when I see it.”

Gwaine’s frown deepened. “And who told you that, if nobody knows it’s here?”

Merlin shrugged and offered his most apologetic look.

“Jesus, Merlin. I’m only doing this because it’s you.”

“I know,” Merlin tugged Gwaine’s jacket and led him towards an information sign. “And I appreciate it. More than I can tell you right now.”

“Do y ou at least have a plan for my ‘distraction’?” Gwaine asked as Merlin scanned the floorplan.

The Reading Room looked like a sensible place to start.

“Merlin?”

“Yes,” he said as he gestured for Gwaine to follow him. “For you, I’ve got a plan.”

* * *

“Well I’m not really surprised he’s buggered off,” Morgana scowled at Arthur as she perched on the edge of his desk.

Arthur wanted to tell his sister that she was currently creasing quite an important document from the UN, but as the glare she was shooting at him could have felled an army he kept silent on that matter. “There’s a bloody dragon out there, Morgana.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of The Serpentine (the name wasn’t lost on him).

“Yes,” she replied. “I heard you the first seven times.”

“You don’t look very surprised.” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Did you know already?”

“No, Arthur, I didn’t know about the dragon,” she shook her head, the force of the glare not really lessening as time went on.

“So you just accept it?”

Morgana frowned. “How is accepting that there’s a dragon in Hyde Park any more difficult than accepting that magic exists?”

Arthur didn’t really have an answer for that.

“You haven’t actually talked to him about his magic have you?” Morgana hopped off the desk, the UN document slithering to the floor, She ignored it and braced her arms against the back of the visitor chair. “Even though you swore blind that you were fine with it, you’re not, are you?”

“I’m not having this conversation with  _you_ , Morgana, ” Arthur barked.

“No,” Morgana shook her head again, “but you  _should_  have already had this conversation with Merlin.”

Arthur ran a hand tiredly over his face. “Do you have any idea where he might have g-“ he trailed off as his brain finally gave up the piece of inf ormation that had been niggling away at his consciousness all morning. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Arthur?” Morgana whirled around in surprise as Arthur rose from his desk and strode past her. “Where are you going?”

“I know where he is,” he replied as Morgana hurried down the hallway after him.

“Where?”

“The British Museum.”

Morgana stopped short and frowned. “Why’s he gone there?”

“Because,” Arthur turned, drawing out the word, “he’s a bloody idiot with a hero complex.”

Morgana muttered something that sounded awfully like ‘ _pot, kettle_ ’ as Arthur hurried down the staircase.

“Leon!” Arthur yelled before he’d even reached the bottom.

Leon appeared almost instantly looking disgruntled. “You called, Arthur?”

“We need to get to Bloomsbury,” Arthur snapped as he reached ground level.

“Okay, why?” Leon asked, staring at Arthur as if the prince had actually lost his mind.

“Because Merlin’s probably about to get himself arrested, if he hasn’t done so already that is.”

“Ah.” Leon replied, looking somewhat horrified. “I’ll get the car.”

* * *

As it turned out  _finding_ the book had been ludicrously easy considering it was tucked away in a room that stored over twenty thousand other texts.

However, actually  _pilfering_  the book was proving to be slightly more of a challenge.

Merlin had counted fifteen cameras in the two circuits he’d made of the room, not to mention the security guards and museum staff who seemed to have the ability to be everywhere all at once. Gwaine should have started on what he decided to call ‘phase one’ already, but Merlin could see no sign of him.

Merlin casually reached out a hand towards the bookshelf. Maybe he could just-

“Please don’t touch the books, sir,” a stern woman snapped at him.

“I-I wasn’t…” Merlin trailed off as she continued to look at him. “I’ve got…cra mp…in my arm.” He made a show of twirling his wrist around a few times.

“Hmm.” Thankfully that was all she seemed to want to say on the matter, and the woman left him alone.

“Oh, wonderful!”

Merlin nearly sagged to the floor in relief as a familiar voice boomed out, causing the general chatter of other visitors to tail off in surprise. He craned his head slightly and saw Gwaine gesticulating wildly at the domed ceiling. A small crowd of official-looking men and women surrounded him as he continued to yell obnoxiously.

“And it was restored a decade ago, you say?” Gwaine flung his right arm up and pointed directly at the ceiling. Most of the crowd now seemed to be entirely focused on the clearly barking man that had just descended on the Reading Room.

Merlin was so distracted by how ridiculous Gwaine looked that he a lmost forgot why he was there. He shuffled backwards slightly, getting as close to the small, hide-bound tome which was tucked at the very end of the waist-height shelf.

“As I said,” Gwaine’s shouting was actually increasing in volume, “as the Duke of Orkney I’d be very interested in looking at donating to the museum, or indeed becoming a patron.”

Merlin almost laughed as the whispering began, building in momentum as realisation began to dawn.

“The Duke of Orkney?” A teenage girl hissed to her mother, moving away from the display of Neolithic axe heads they had been previously discussing and making a break for Gwaine.

Other members of the public were now pulling out previously stored away cameras, moving towards Gwaine as if drawn magnetically.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentleman,” a security guard called out, “pl ease remember that we do not allow photography in the Reading Room. You may use your cameras elsewhere, but please not in here.”

Gwaine was surrounded by women of various ages the next time Merlin looked over. The security guards moved away from their posts as the flashes of many digital cameras and phones proved just how willing the crowd was to adhere to the rules.

“Bene læg gesweorc,” Merlin whispered with a quick glance at the ceiling. He looked away as he saw a ring of fog beginning to form at the edges of the dome. He held his breath and waited as the swirling white dropped just low enough to obscure the security cameras. He hadn’t dared tried to neutralize the cameras with magic; knowing Merlin it would probably have ended in the cameras exploding, which whilst dramatic, wasn’t subtle enough for his liking.

The instant the fire alarm reacted to the misty vapour Merlin whirled, gr abbed the book and stuffed it into one of the large outer pockets of his duffle coat.

Emergency exits were opened immediately and Merlin watched as Gwaine was ushered away. The security guards returned to their stations at the doors as the prerecorded instructions for evacuation were played over the museum’s audio system.

Each visitor was given a cursory onceover as they exited, the guards making sure that no books or other items were removed.

Merlin didn’t breathe again until he was across the road and sagging into a chair at the Museum Tavern. He carefully removed the book from his pocket, sliding it onto his lap under the table as he opened it.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he looked at the introductory page.

_Was it too early to order gin?_

* * *

“Oh, that doesn’t look good,” Leon winced at Arthur in the rear view mirror as he pulled onto Great Russell Street.

Arthur leaned to the left so he could see through the windscreen from his perch on the backseat, and then immediately wished he hadn’t.

Crowds of people were packed onto the pavement on either side of the road as police officers valiantly tried to keep them from spilling out into the traffic. Leon inched the car forward as slowly as possible, and Arthur couldn’t halt the soft string of expletives that burst from his lips as the fire engines parked inside the museum gates came into sight in the distance.

“Leon, you can’t see any flames can you?” Arthur dropped his head into his hands with a grimace. A second later his phone rang in his pocket, startling him.

_Gwaine_

Arthur’s expression was bordering on murderous before his fingers had time to accept the call. “Please tell me you’ve got fucking nothing to do with this, Gwaine.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, Princess,” Gwaine drawled and Arthur wanted to punch him for the first time in a year.

“Where is he?” Arthur demanded. “If he’s been arrested I’ll kill him. Then I’ll kill you.”

Gwaine laughed. “He should be across the road. In the Museum Tavern.”

Arthur hung up with a barely suppressed growl.

“Where is he?” Leon asked as the car crawled past the main gates, both occupants looking as the building continued to expel visitors.

Arthur crossed his arms as he narrowed his eyes. “Apparently he’s in the tavern.” Leon’s reflection looked baffled and Arthur pointed out of th e left hand window. “The Museum Tavern. It’s just there on the corner.”

Leon nodded. “I’ll park up the street and go back and get him.”

Arthur remained silent as Leon drove on and eventually reached a point where he could turn left. The prince didn’t even bother to indulge in his usual annoyance as Leon secured the car and left him locked in.

 _Stupid, fucking, bloody, bloody idiot_. The words whirled around and around in Arthur’s head like a little mantra of anger for the five long minutes it took for Leon to return with a very guilty looking Merlin.

Merlin slid into the car next to Arthur and smiled sheepishly at him. “Hi?”

Arthur’s whole body tensed as the car started moving again. “What the fuck did you just do?”

“Um…”Merlin gestured towards his pocket. “I foun d the book?”

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled and even Leon jumped, the car jerking slightly as his foot slipped off the accelerator.

Merlin reached into his pocket and held it out for Arthur to see. “We needed it. I couldn’t exactly risk you getting arrested, could I?”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest very vehemently, but Merlin cut him off by pressing his fingers to the prince’s lips.

“Yell at me later,” Merlin said pointedly. “You need to look at this.”

Arthur, despite his better judgement, and most certainly despite the very loud voice screaming at him to have a tantrum, took the book from Merlin’s hands and looked at it.

There was nothing that marked it out as special and it looked more like a diary than the large, dusty tome Arthur had been expecting. The book was small and leather bound with no writing or markings on the cover to suggest anything about the contents or author. Arthur couldn’t help but notice that it looked in surprisingly good condition for something so old, particularly an item that was apparently unknown and therefore not carefully preserved.

“Open it,” Merlin said, his eyes dropping away from Arthur and drifting to the floor. That movement worried Arthur enough for his anger to fizzle away.

He did as instructed and he felt his eyes widen immediately as he took in the first page. An unfinished sketch of a man and woman, both in profile, took up the bottom half of the parchment. At the top of the page there was one word underlined,  _eorlscipe,  _with a name written in smaller font below.

Arthur didn’t have to be a genius to know that Merlin had jumped to the same conclusions as he had. His fingers traced lightly over the two fa miliar faces, one of them being identical to his own, and up to the name of the author.

Guinevere Pendragon.

Arthur’s lungs expelled the breath they’d been holding onto since he first opened the book as he once more looked at the depiction of Gwen’s face.  _Guinevere’s_  face.

_Gwen._

_Guinevere._

_Guinevere Pendragon._

“Fuck,” Arthur breathed as he snapped the book shut and looked up at Merlin.

Merlin shot him a small smile that was a million miles from the blithe one Arthur just knew he was attempting.

“Well,” Merlin said eventually as Arthur continued to stare at him. “This is a bit awkward, isn’t it?”


	6. Chapter 6

Guinevere Pendragon’s book had been placed carefully in the centre of Arthur’s desk within minutes of returning to Kensington. Morgana, who had an uncanny ability to arrive just when Arthur would rather have her out of the way, had been turned away with a glare and an angry mumble leaving just two bemused young men alone with the purloined manuscript.

Arthur knew it was unlikely that the Princess would have caved to her brother’s hostility if it hadn’t been for the look on Merlin’s face. Arthur couldn’t quite categorise the emotion he’d seen there, as it had seemed to shift between wounded surprise and a pained acceptance. He might not have been able to label the emotion, but Arthur knew exactly what had caused it, just as firmly as he knew he didn’t want to see that look on Merlin’s face again.

Merlin sat opposite the prince, keeping his head bowed as he playe d with the cuff of his jumper in an achingly familiar fashion.

“Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, wincing slightly at the flinch his voice brought about.

“We needed to get that book,” Merlin replied after a few seconds of silence. “I asked Gwaine to help because I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to cause havoc. It wasn’t because he and I-“

“I know,” Arthur nodded.

Merlin frowned. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“Merlin,” Arthur leant back in his chair and tapped his fingers against the edge of the desk, “Gwaine is entirely arse over tit for Elena,  _and_  he’s been a very good friend to me this year.  _Not that any of that will save him next time I see him_. But I’m fully aware why you asked Gwaine to help.”

“I couldn’t ask you .”

“I know,” Arthur nodded again.

“If you were caught t-“

“ _Merlin_!” Arthur cried in exasperation, and this time there was no flare of guilt when Merlin jumped in surprise. “I  _know_.”

Merlin’s gaze dropped from Arthur’s face and drifted over the book, which they were both leaning away from. He was sagging slightly in his chair and the dark circles under his eyes seemed more prominent than they had the day before. Arthur  _did_  feel a spike of shame at that. “Did you have another dream last night?”

Merlin’s eyes were hooded as he looked up again and gave a small lop-sided smile. “That would have required me sleeping.”

“You didn’t sleep?” Arthur frowned. “At all?”

Merlin shrugged and Arthur immediately felt like a complete bastard. He hadn’t been thinking much past his conversation with the Dragon ( _Dragon, for fuck’s sake!)_ when he’d left Merlin alone the night before.

“What are we going to do about that?” Merlin said, not giving Arthur a chance to apologise for his behaviour. He pointed at the book and Arthur found himself reaching out to pick it up.

“Do you really believe it?” Arthur asked after another long moment of silent stretched between them.

Merlin sighed. “I have no reason to doubt it.”

Arthur opened the book, flicking past the first page to avoid his eyes falling on the sketch once more.  _This had to be an elaborate ruse, didn’t it?_

“I think it’s protected by magic,” Merlin said quietly. “That’s why nobody knew it existed.”

Arthur fought against the urg e to drop the book at the mention of magic, instead curling his fingers more tightly into the cover. “Why do you think that?”

“I can feel it,” Merlin bowed his head again, guilt creasing his features. “I didn’t notice at the museum, I was too preoccupied with not getting caught, but now…”

Arthur looked down at the page he’d turned to and frowned. “I can’t read it.” He held the book out for Merlin to see. “Some of it’s in Latin, but…”

Merlin took the book and studied the page carefully. “It looks like Old English. You did Latin at school didn’t you?”

Arthur stood up and within three strides he was leaning over Merlin’s shoulder, squinting at the page again. “This is a bit different to the Oxford Latin Course.  _Quintus est puer Romanus_ isn’t going to help me now.”

Merlin snorted an d Arthur turned his head slightly so his nose was practically touching the other boy’s cheek.

“You just spoke Latin,” Merlin grinned. “Plummy sod.”

“Shut up,” Arthur grumbled before stepping back and moving to perch on the edge of the desk in front of Merlin. “You have an English degree, can’t you read any of it?”

Merlin shook his head. “Not a chance.” He leafed through some more pages before his eyes widened.

“What?” Arthur straightened up immediately and leaned forward to see what Merlin was looking at.

Another sketch dominated the page; this time depicting two men on horseback. The first figure, a long cloak draped over his shoulders, was ‘Arthur’ again, whilst the second man’s mop of hair was unmistakeable. Arthur couldn’t staunch the urge to reach out a hand and card his fingers through Merli n’s messy locks, eventually settling with his wrist on Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin’s own fingers skimmed lightly over the drawing. “It’s weird. How can I have read, no,  _studied_ , the legends and never made any connections? Even now, it’s like my memory won’t latch onto the facts properly.”

Arthur considered Merlin’s words, concluding eventually that his experience was similar. “Do you really think it’s something to do with…you?” He asked carefully, not entirely sure he wanted to have this conversation.

Merlin nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the page on his lap. “I don’t know how, but I’ve got a feeling that it’s my fault we don’t remember.”

Arthur blew out a breath loudly, his cheeks puffing out in frustration as he pulled his hand away. “I tried to remember,” he admitted eventually, unsurprised when Merlin's eyes immediately snapped to his face. “Last night, when I couldn’t sleep. But there’s nothing there. I know I keep dreaming of  _something_ , but it’s gone when I wake up.”

“Morgause and Nimueh seemed to know everything.” Merlin shuddered slightly as he recalled the names of the two women. “Why?”

“Perhaps it’s because of magic.” Arthur said  _the word_  as calmly as possible. “They remembered because of who they were and the power they possessed. You have those dreams, and…Morgana’s nightmares last year  _must_ be connected to this too.”

Merlin nodded pensively. “It’s plausible.”

Arthur frowned again. “Do you think my dreams are affected by you? I mean, being close to magic.”

This time Merlin shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean I lived with Gwen for two years… ” Merlin trailed off awkwardly as his eyes darted back to the book. “Two years and she never complained about a nightmare. I don’t think Gwaine knows either. Not really.”

Arthur’s head jerked up. “Gwaine? What’s Gwaine got to do with this?”

Merlin pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he yawned widely. “I could be wrong, but he made a comment today about you being King Arthur in the future and something clicked. Gwaine sounds an awful lot like Gawain, don’t you think?”

Arthur scrunched up his nose. “Gawain?”

Merlin dropped his hands back into his lap. “Yeah, Gawain. He was a knight of the Round Table.”

 _Round Table_. Arthur swallowed loudly, a strange fizzing sensation under his skin as the words smacked of familiarity. He gripped the edge of the desk tighter with h is fingers as he felt the need to ground himself in the reality he knew.

“Arthur, I…” Merlin trailed off, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Arthur steeled himself, his right hand coming up to cover his lips. “What?”

“Maybe you’re having dreams because you were born of magic.”

Merlin’s reply had been less of a statement, and more of a rushed mumble, but Arthur had felt the words stab at his chest. His father’s own explanation from what felt like such a long time ago now ripped through Arthur’s defences once more. It was a fact he had chosen to avoid dwelling on, a convenience borne out of desperation for a return to blissful ignorance. How could he admit that he was afraid of something that was not only a part of Merlin, but a part of Arthur himself?

Merlin, clearly sensing the spiral that Arthur’s thoughts we re descending into, placed the book on the desk beside Arthur and pushed himself to his feet. Arthur was aware of the two hands that settled on his shoulders a moment before bright blue eyes appeared scant inches from his own.

“Arthur?”

Arthur stared back, unable to reply as the sudden onset of  _fear_ caused paralysis of his whole body. His mind, on the other hand, was spinning; every thought he had seemed to disappear into the ether though, leaving him unable to process anything coherently.  _Merlin. Magic. Dragon. Guinevere Pendragon. Arthur. King Arthur._

“Okay, Arthur. It’s okay.”

Merlin’s words filtered through, although how long after he’d spoken them Arthur didn’t know. The warm hands on his shoulders had moved –  _when had that happened?_  – and Merlin was now holding Arthur’s head steady, thumbs pressing into the hollows beneath his cheekbones.

“It’s okay to be scared, you know.”

 _Scared_. Arthur snapped out of his anxiety as if he’d been slapped. “I’m not scared.”

Merlin smiled, a tiny huff of breath suggesting the barest hint of a laugh. “Really? Because I’m terrified.”

Arthur blinked slowly. “I want you to tell me everything. Everything you’ve done. For me.”

Merlin shifted backwards ever so slightly. “Now?”

Arthur’s eyes flickered quickly as he took in every detail of Merlin’s face. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced close up, looking almost like the faded remains of two black eyes. His eyes themselves lacked their usual lustre, and Arthur had barely started to contemplate the downward turn of Merlin’s lips when his concentration was broken as those very lips broke into another yawn.

Merlin covered his mouth quickly. “Sorry.”

Arthur felt the loss of contact immediately. “You should get some sleep.”

Merlin nodded. “What time is it anyway?”

Arthur looked at his watch. “Nearly one.”

“I need to be at Gwen and Lance’s by four,” Merlin stretched his arms above his head, his jumper rising slightly to allow Arthur a glimpse of warm skin beneath.

So distracted was Arthur that it took a moment for Merlin’s words to register properly. “Gwen and Lance’s?”

Merlin took a full step backwards this time. “Yes,” he replied slowly. “They’re driving me to Ealdor tonight to pick up my things. Remember?”

No, Arthur didn’t remember. To be fair, there’d been quite a lot to take in recently. “When did you tell me that?”

“Days ago,” Merlin’s voice hadn’t increased in pace. “Arthur, are you sure you’re alright?” A pause. “Arthur?”

Arthur shook his head, his body betraying his mind’s need to lie before he could stop himself.

Merlin bit his lip, stepping closer again. Arthur tensed as he felt arms encircle him, his cheek suddenly squashed against soft wool. Merlin was running a hand through his hair and Arthur felt like a coddled child. Every instinct borne of his upbringing told him to push Merlin away and not give in to the influx of emotion that had been building since Merlin first revealed his magic oh so long ago now. But he needed to, he actually  _wanted_ to give in to Merlin’s hold, because the weight of now knowing his life wasn’t his own (in ways he’d never considered), and that his decisions were the property of destiny was too much. A transitory reminder of the agreement he had reached with his father was the final blow to his already fragile hold on his resolve.

Arthur crumpled in Merlin’s grasp, bringing his own arms up to pull Merlin impossibly closer.

With Merlin holding him tightly, a physical anchor to life and the world around him, Arthur Pendragon let go.

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur was very aware of how Merlin’s eyes kept drifting up from the book to study him when he thought the prince wasn’t looking.

“I’m not going to have another meltdown,” Arthur lifted his gaze from his laptop to catch Merlin’s eye as he spoke. He willed Merlin not to bring up the half hour of desperate clinging that had resulted in one tension headache (Arthur) and a damp jumper (Merlin, courtesy of Arthur). Arthur had been the one to break away, excusing himself to wash his face and try to slip his usual mask of confidence and composure back into place. When he’d returned to his office he found that Merlin had taken ownership of one of the armchairs by the glowing fireplace (which Arthur suspected had not required firelighters) and there were two cups of tea on the coffee table. Arthur had loved Merlin more in that moment than he could have hoped to express in words.

“I know,” Merlin smiled slightly. “Have you found anything?” He gestured to the computer resting on the arm of Arthur’s chair.

“You’re supposed to have a beard,” Arthur grinned as he turned the laptop around so Merlin could see the screen. He laughed when Merlin’s eyes widened in annoyance.

“I did  _not_  look like that,” Merlin threw his hand up. “And don’t get any ideas about pointy hats.”

“Too late,” Arthur replied as he shifted the laptop around once more. “I’ve already ordered you one for your birthday.”

Merlin scowled and went back to carefully looking through the book on his lap. Arthur sobered slightly as he caught sight of yet another sketch on the page Merlin was focused on.

“Fuck,” Arthur breathed. “That’s my father.”

Merlin nodded grimly wi thout looking up from the drawing. “Arthur, I really think I should try and get this to Gaius today.”

Arthur nodded and closed the laptop. “And I don’t think we should read anything else about the legends until we know what Gwen, I mean,  _Guinevere’s_  book says. I’ve only read a few things about you, and I really don’t want to think about you trapped inside a tree.” Arthur shivered; he’d meant the words as a joke because it all sounded so ludicrous. But he supposed that ludicrous wasn’t too far removed from the truth of late.

“What?” Merlin paled slightly. “Actually, don’t tell me. And I’m not looking at any more of this until we know what it says. If I see one more picture of anyone we know I’ll…” Merlin trailed off helplessly as he shut the book.

“I’ll ask Leon to take the book to Gaius,” Arthur nodded as he slid the laptop underneath the armchair and stood.

“I can call Gwen and Lance and ask them if they wouldn’t mind waiting until tomorrow,” Merlin said as he stood too and allowed himself to be pulled towards Arthur. “We’ll just do it in one day. Mum won’t mind too much if we don’t stay over.”

Arthur shook his head. “No, you should go. Your mother will probably kill me if I keep you here any longer.”

Merlin chuckled slightly. “You’re probably right. Are you sure you can’t…”

Arthur smiled, although he didn’t mean it. “Dinner with Commonwealth ambassadors and a meeting on behalf of the King in the morning. Not to mention I’m actually going to have to go and see Annis – thanks for abandoning me for that, by the way.”

“Your life is ridiculous,” Merlin shook his head, running his fingers over the delicate skin on the inside of Arthur’s wrists as he grinned.

Arthur grew serious as he caught Merlin’s hands between his own. “Don’t go to Gwen and Lance’s when you get back. I meant it about my mother’s house.”

Merlin sighed. “I know you did, Arthur, but it-“

“You can’t sleep on a sofa, Merlin,” Arthur cut him off, internally running through the list of arguments he’d already used. “Morgana will kill you if you fall asleep at work.”

“It’s only until I find a flat of my own,” Merlin countered.

“And end up in some far flung corner of London?”

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed in exasperation, “I  _can’t_  just move into that h-“

A knock at the door ended the conversation before it could mutate into an argument neither of them had the energy for. The door opened to reveal Owain.

“Sorry,” Owain ducked his head slightly as he caught sight of Arthur and Merlin’s joined hands, “I was just wondering what time you wanted to leave, Merlin.”

“Owain, really,” Merlin nodded seriously, “I’m just going to get the tube and then Lance has borrowed his Dad’s car. I already said you really don’t need to come.”

Owain smiled sheepishly. “Actually, as of this morning I’m contractually obligated to.”

Merlin frowned and looked to Arthur. The prince shrugged in confusion.

“Sorry,” Owain said again. “I thought you would both be aware. The King has requested that I take on protection duties for Merlin. Galahad will take on my role for you, Arthur.”

Arthur almost laughed at the incredulous look on Merlin’s face. “Good” Arthur nodded to Owain. “You’ve already had experience of tailing Merlin, so you know how difficult he can be.”

Merlin gave an outraged snort and Arthur did laugh at that. Owain, the consummate professional, simply averted his eyes and pretended he wasn’t biting his lip.

“Sorry, Merlin,” Arthur grinned. “Owain’s your shadow from now on.”

“I’m going to have to call my mother and tell her we’ll have an extra guest. She won’t be happy I didn’t tell her earlier,” Merlin complained, before turning and shooting Owain an apologetic glance. “Not that she doesn’t like you, Owain.”

Owain bit his lip with a little more force.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “your mother is practically the nicest woman on the planet. You could turn up with the entire population of London and she’d just offer everyone cake.”

“Hey, she’s already cross with you,” Merlin glared at Arthur and the prince shrank back slightly. “She was expecting to see you today  _and_  she w-”

“Half-past three?” Owain asked, raising his voice ever so slightly.

Merlin nodded grimly. “That’s fine, thanks.”

“Do you know what time you’ll want to start heading back tomorrow?” Owain asked. “Agravaine wants to know when the security sweep of Cadogan Square needs to be finished. You probably want to move in without being accosted by Special Forces.” Owain laughed slightly.

“What?” Merlin finally looked away from Arthur.

Arthur’s frown crept towards puzzlement. “Cadogan Square?”

Owain’s eyes widened and he abruptly stopped chuckling. “The flat?”

Arthu r had a feeling he knew  _exactly_  what Owain was talking about, just as he had a feeling that Merlin wasn’t going to like what Owain was trying to explain.

“Merlin,” Owain frowned slightly, “His Majesty has given the order for you to take on a flat on Cadogan Square. Your household staff was appointed by Agravaine this morning.” Owain shrugged helplessly. “I thought you knew.”

“But I’m going to stay with Gwen and Lance in Holloway,” Merlin protested.

Owain grimaced. “I don’t think His Majesty will agree to that.”

Arthur tried to keep a straight face as Merlin gawped at him. “Cadogan Square is a highly sought-after address, Merlin. Most people would jump at the chance to live there. Just think, Harrods is only up the road.”

“Arthur,” Merlin hissed through his teeth.

Arthur raised one shoulder. “If only there was another option. One that meant you wouldn’t have to move in to that apartment. One that meant you could move into a house incredibly close to where you’re going to be working, and already has full security clearance, and would mean that-“

“Yes, alright, thank you,” Merlin held up one hand, and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. “I get the point.”

“I’ll tell my father you’re moving to Cambridge Place then?”

“ _Where?_ ”

“The house, Merlin.”

“I hate you,” Merlin pursed his lips. “I can’t believe I’m being bullied by the King and the Prince of Wales at the same time.”

Arthur only smirked before turning back to Owain. “Owain, when you see Agravaine could you ask him to come and see me? I believe he has s omething to tell Merlin,  _and_  he’ll need to cancel the security sweep.”

Owain nodded. “Of course. Merlin, I’ll get the car when you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” Merlin sounded distracted as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Arthur?” Owain said, stopping just before he opened the door to leave.

“Hmm?”

“Agravaine’s already on the warpath.” Owain winced slightly.

Arthur felt his mirth dissipate immediately and he folded his arms. “He’s lucky he still has a job,” he scowled. “Any mention of Merlin’s phone, by the way?”

Owain shook his head. “Apparently it’s been ‘misplaced’. Do you want me to declare it as officially missing?”

Arthur nodded. “Can you download everything and transfer it to a new hand set?”

“Leon already did that,” Owain replied. “The sim card and memory’s been wiped via remote.”

“Good,” Arthur sighed. He knew his team was competent, but it was always nice to have it confirmed. “When?”

Owain grimaced. “About five minutes after we knew what had happened outside Claridge’s.”

Arthur nodded grimly. It was reassuring to know that Leon and Owain had reservations about Agravaine too, but it didn’t solve the problem of not knowing quite why they were all suspicious of him in the first place. “Thanks.”

Owain nodded once more before leaving.

Arthur looked over to where Merlin was sprawled once again in the armchair. “Alright?”

“You’d think I was a bloody princess,” Merlin grumbled, another wide yawn taking the sting out of h is retort.

Arthur grinned.

* * *

“Well…” Gwen breathed from the backseat. “That’s…er…”

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded grimly, twisting back round so he was facing forwards again. “ _Exactly_.”

Lance shot him a sideways glance as they inched forwards in the traffic jam outside of Bristol. “Arthur actually offered to give up the crown?”

“Yes.” Merlin leant his head against the window and wished he’d taken Gwen’s advice to try and sleep when they’d left London. He closed his eyes to avoid looking at Owain’s car in the wing mirror.

“Wow,” Lance shook his head disbelievingly. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

Merlin sighed. He was feeling more than a bit out of sorts due to lack of sleep, not to mention the fact that he was sharing a car with two people who he apparently knew from  _b efore_. And whilst he was happy to share some of his life’s recent developments, he’d decided it would be better for all involved if he didn’t start spouting insane-sounding conjecture about King Arthur and the Round Table. On top of all of that he was finding it very difficult to look Gwen in the eye - which was more than a little ridiculous.

“Oh!” Gwen’s voice startled Merlin and his eyes snapped open. “I meant to ask you earlier, but forgot. Did you see that Gwaine was at the British Museum today?”

“It was on the  _news_?” Merlin whirled around again to look at his friend.

Gwen frowned.

_Er…_

“Morgana said something about it,” Merlin said vaguely after a few seconds. “I didn’t realise it was news-worthy.”

“Right,” Gwen said slowly, her eyes narrowin g slightly. “Well, apparently he made a surprise visit and while he was there they had to evacuate the building because there was a fire alarm.”

“Oh?” Merlin feigned as much surprise and interest as he could muster.

“It was a false alarm though,” Gwen continued, her frown deepening with every second she spent looking at Merlin. “Apparently there was moisture in the air and it affected the alarm system.”

Merlin’s phone loudly announced the arrival of a text message, which saved him from Gwen’s scrutiny.

**From: Morgana  
2nd January 2013 19:03**

Well done! You’ve  
ruined Uther’s day again.  
I don’t think you realise  
just how much I love you  
right now! Xxxxxx  
P.S Say hi to your Mum!

Merlin groaned. “Oh God.”

“What?” Lance asked.

Merlin’s phone beeped twice before he could explain.

**From: Arthur  
2nd January 2013 19:04**

Ignore Morgana! It’s fine!  
He wasn’t that angry!  
Just about to leave for  
dinner. I’ll call when  
we’re back if you’re still  
awake. Say hi to your  
Mum for me.

 

**From: Morgana  
2nd January 2013 19:04**

Arthur just got in the car.  
What the fuck did you do  
to him? Most obvious smile  
I’ve ever seen!  
Please avoid  
debauching him before  
public engagements in  
future! Diplomats won’t  
be able to handle  
‘Obnoxiously Happy  
Arthur’! xxx

_Oh bloody fuck!_

“Lance?” Merlin looked over at his friend.

“Yeah?”

“Bristol has an airport, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How easy is to emigrate?”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Well, as I live and breathe! Merlin Emrys!”

Merlin resisted the temptation to thump his forehead off the roof of the car. Instead he plastered on a wide smile and turned around as Lance and Gwen climbed out. “Nerys! Hi.”

“Your mum didn’t say you were coming back today!” Nerys beamed rushing over to embrace him. “And you’ve brought friends as well, I see.” Her smile faded as she saw Owain emerge from the black car.

“I’m sorry about what happened when they brought Will’s car back,” Merlin said as he followed her line of sight.

“That’s alright,” Nerys replied, her gaze still trained on Owain. “They just caught me in dressing gown.”

Merlin gave her a quick smile. “Anyway, these are my friends, Gwen and Lance. We’ve got a lot to do though so-“

“I hear you’re going to work for the Princess Morgana,” Nerys gripped his arm.

“That’s right,” Merlin extracted himself from her fingers. “I’m just here tonight to pack and move everything down to London.”

“Have you got a flat down there?”

“Merlin!” Hunith’s call caused them all to turn.

Merlin grinned in relief and with a quick apologetic smile to Nerys he hurried over to his mother and wrapped her in a hug. “Sorry we’re late.”

Hunith smiled as they broke apart, swatting him lightly with the tea towel she was holding. “Let’s get you all inside out of the cold.” She leaned closer to her son and muttered, “I have a feeling Nerys will start interrogating your friends if we don’t.”

Merlin watched as his mum strode over to usher Gwen and Lance away f rom the car (where they were still hovering nervously under Nerys’ eagle-eyed stare) and towards the house. “Nerys,” she nodded, “ask Will to pop over later, won’t you?”

Nerys eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Of course.”

“Well, supper’s almost ready so we best be going in,” Hunith smiled at her neighbour. “See you tomorrow, Nerys.”

Nerys looked ready to burst a blood vessel. Merlin wasn’t surprised; Nerys couldn’t live without gossip and here was Hunith revoking access to a juicy source of Royal gossip. He tried not to laugh as he was pushed into the house alongside his friends and Owain.

“Just be glad you didn’t bring Arthur,” Hunith rolled her eyes as she closed the front door behind them. “Or Morgana for that matter. She’d have BBC News down here so quick you wouldn’t even see them coming.”

“Conservatory still, Mum?” Merlin laughed as everyone shrugged out of coats.

“No,” Hunith pursed her lips. “Her nibs is all impressed with her new kitchen now. It looks like something from  _Masterchef_. You wouldn’t mind but this is a woman who can’t boil an egg.”

Gwen choked out a laugh and Merlin grinned as he watched her try to cover her mouth with her hand.

“Where are my manners!” Hunith shook her head before wrapping Gwen in a warm hug. “Gwen, love, it’s so nice to see you.”

“You too,” Gwen smiled back.

“Lance! Have you got taller?” Hunith grinned as Lance, ever the gentleman, kissed her on the cheek.

Merlin grinned as his mother then set her sights on the final visitor.

“And Owain too!”

Merlin joined Gwen in snorting with laughter again as a surprised Owain was pulled into a hug with a comment about him being ‘such a nice Welsh boy.’

“Merlin, why don’t you get everyone settled?” Hunith said as she surveyed her packed hallway. “Owain, I’m afraid it’s the inflatable mattress in the living room again.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Mrs Emrys.”

“Hunith, please,” she smiled indulgently at Owain just as she would with any of Merlin’s friends. It didn’t matter that he was trained to kill, when he was in Ealdor, Owain was a guest just like everyone else.

Merlin shook his head to himself as he led Gwen and Lance upstairs.

“Have you told your mum about what Arthur said to his father?” Gwen whispered as they reached the guest bedroom.

Merlin shook his head vehemently . “No, and I really don’t want to have that conversation with her. She loves me, I know that, but I don’t think that would stop her murdering me for potentially depriving the world of Arthur as King, and for bringing the family name into disgrace or something.”

Lance laughed as he placed his overnight bag on the bed. “Merlin, my friend, there are many moments when I don’t envy you.” Lance paused for effect as he dropped his hands onto Merlin’s shoulders. “This is one of them.”

“Yeah, thanks guys,” Merlin glared at them as they laughed. “You’re such brilliant friends.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin wasn’t surprised when Will followed him into the kitchen later that evening on the pretence of helping to make tea. To be fair, it wasn’t often your best friend dramatically requisitioned your car on Christmas Day only for it to be returned by a small security team later in the week. Will probably had some questions.

“So…” Will said as he dropped teabags into the teapot Merlin had just taken from the windowsill. “Arthur’s not with you.”

Merlin started slightly. “Why would he be?” Merlin knew that was a dangerous question as soon as it passed his lips. He should have just stuck with  _no, he’s not_.

Will cocked an eyebrow at that. “Oh, I see.” He drew each word out to create a perfectly obnoxious response.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Merlin muttered as he filled the kettle (after much testi ng in his teenage years it was decided that magic definitely left an unpleasant aftertaste if it was used to heat water). “’Oh, I see’ is not an appropriate response to anything. Self-satisfied doesn’t suit you, Will.”

Will grinned. “Alright, I’ll be less delicate about it.  _Merlin_ , are you shagging the Prince of Wales?”

Merlin dropped the kettle in the sink, too surprised it seemed for even his instinctive magic to kick in and halt its progress. The clang of metal against enamel rang through the kitchen.

“Merlin, are you alright?” Hunith called from the living room where they were all watching  _Die Hard_. (Hunith may mock Nerys about Richard Gere, but that didn’t stop her seeking out Alan Rickman in the TV Guide.)

Merlin was staring at Will, too focused on trying to get his mouth to close again that he couldn’t reply.

“All fine!” Will called back, smirking at his oldest friend as he did so. “Well, well, well,” he muttered to Merlin as the smirk morphed into a leer, “I’ll take that as a  _yes_ then.”

“Shut up, Will,” Merlin snapped, seizing the kettle’s handle between shaking fingers and refilling.

“Well it was either going to be him or Morgana, and we both know she’s not really your  _type_ ,” Will laughed.

Merlin retrieved the sugar bowl from the cupboard and slammed the door shut when Will snickered again.

“Hey,” Will said more gently as Merlin put the kettle on to boil. “I was only winding you up. This place has been boring without you.”

Merlin felt as if every particle of air was being sucked from his lungs at Will’s words. Will had said that before, he was sure of it. A nd by before, he meant  _before_. A shiver ripped through Merlin all of a sudden, alongside a palpable sense of loss.

“Merlin?” Will’s face had creased into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Merlin forced a smile onto his lips as he turned to look for a teaspoon. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

Will snorted slightly and Merlin twisted around to see his friend biting his lip. “Don’t say a word,” he brandished the teaspoon as Will cracked up.

Merlin remained stubbornly silent as he and Will carried all relevant tea paraphernalia through to the living room.

“Now, Merlin,” Hunith said when everyone was settled and the film had segued into an ad break, “why haven’t you been sleeping properly?”

Will, to his credit, tried valiantly not to laugh, but resistance was futile a nd Merlin ended up being sprayed with tea anyway.

Merlin closed his eyes and dropped his head onto his chest.  _How the fuck had this become his life?_


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you sure this a good idea, sir?”

Arthur pursed his lips and attempted to find five good reasons for not just upending Agravaine out of the window he was so conveniently standing next to. It didn’t bode well for Agravaine’s future prognosis that the prince couldn’t even find  _one_. Leon was only outside the door, but Arthur didn’t suppose for a moment that he wouldn’t h-

“Sir?”

Arthur’s macabre train of thought was abruptly derailed when he found Agravaine standing right in front of him.

“I’m positive, Agravaine,” Arthur adopted an air of haughty nonchalance rather than the sneer that was threatening to appear. “This property was empty, and as I’ve already moved into Kensington it seems unlikely that I will need to reside here at any time in the near future.”

Agravaine bowed his head slightly, unable to hide the look of disbelief that flittered across his face for just a second. “Do you not feel that it is rather unconventional for Mr Emrys to reside in a royal residence?”

Arthur attempted to further school his features into an impression of indifference. “It would not be the first time a friend of the family has been afforded such a privilege.” Arthur knew that Merlin would be mercilessly ribbing him for the formality of his speech right now and was fleetingly disappointed that he wasn’t there to share it with him.

“Of course.” The obsequious look that Arthur had come to characterise as meaning ‘I’m only being polite to you because your father pays my salary’ was firmly back in place. “I just meant that this residence is rather close to the Palace, and what with it being your mother’s former r-“

“It is  _my_  property, Agravain e,” Arthur controlled his irritation as best as he could. “My mother left it to me. Both my father and I believe that such a property should be at the disposal of the man who has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

Agravaine didn’t look anywhere near as suitably cowed as Arthur would have liked. “Of course,” was all he said, with yet another bob of his head to suggest subservience. “I am merely thinking of the public interest that will no doubt be caused by such a… _gesture_.”

It was only the impeccably timed arrival of Leon in the that prevented Agravaine receiving a Tiffany lamp to the back of the head .

“Everything’s clear,” Leon narrowed his eyes slightly at Arthur as he spoke.

Arthur wasn’t sure what expression he was wearing but at Leon’s arched eyebrow he coughed and wrinkled his nose a few times until he was sure he looked bored.

Leon tilted his head slightly. “Merlin can move in as soon as he returns from Wales. I’ll keep all copies of the keys until then.”

Arthur nodded, sparing the smallest of nods in Leon’s direction. The prince had been keen to ensure that Agravaine wasn’t given any opportunity to make a copy of the Cambridge Place keys and security codes and so far Leon was completing that task admirably.

“I still feel it would be beneficial for my office to hold a copy of the keys,” Agravaine stated. “As it is a London residence it falls under my remit and-“

“It is a  _privately_  held house, Agravaine, and not part of the Crown Estate,” Arthur kept his voice steady. Agravaine wasn’t being particularly subtle about his want for access to the house and that was concerning Arthur more than if the man had employed cloak-and-dagger method s. “My sister and I are the only two people who currently have key access; Merlin will be the third and final keyholder. I wouldn’t want to burden you with any unnecessary work.”

Leon had turned away to apparently inspect the bookshelves, and Arthur knew that he was trying not to laugh at the deepening puce of Agravaine’s face.

Agravaine smiled tightly. “Perhaps it would still be proper to furnish Mr Emrys with the household staff I appointed on his behalf.”

“That really won’t be necessary,” Arthur shook his head. “Surely you can see how such a  _gesture_ could be misconstrued by the general public. Mr Emrys is a friend of the family, he is  _not_ a visiting royal or dignitary. Therefore he will privately employ a housekeeper if he so wishes, but will not be extended the courtesy of a full staff.”

Leon coughed, barely covering the snort of laughter he’d emitted at Arthur’s response. It had been Morgana’s idea to suggest that Merlin having an appointed staff might look overly generous to the public (and the media), and Arthur had been perfecting that little speech in the short car journey from the Palace to Cambridge Place. If Agravaine was aiming for subterfuge then Arthur was gleefully enjoying the opportunity to use protocol as a weapon. Agravaine couldn’t argue with protocol – his contract stated as much.

“Of course,” Agravaine barely choked out. “Please excuse me while I dismiss the team downstairs.” He bowed, without even a hint of deference this time, and practically stormed from the room.

“He’s definitely up to something,” Arthur murmured as he carefully shut the door and turned to Leon. “Can you come back and do a sweep when we’ve gone? I don’t trust his team any more than I trust him.”

Leon nodded. “I looked over the employment files of the staff he appointed, as you asked.”

“And?”

“All of them were appointed by Agravaine to initially work at Buckingham,” Leon spoke quietly. “None of them have been employed here for longer than six months, nor have any of them been cleared for direct access to you or your family. They come with no particular recommendations from the senior staff at the Palace, and by all accounts quite a few people felt that Agravaine had intentionally overlooked those with more experience.”

Arthur shook his head. “Do you think…” he trailed off as he thought carefully about how to phrase his thoughts. “Do you think these actions are entirely Agravaine’s doing, or do you think…”

“Your father is somehow involved?”

Arthur’s eyes snapped up at that. p>

“It’s written all over your face, Arthur,” Leon shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t think your father intends to make the next six months easy for you, or Merlin for that matter. But by all accounts Agravaine knows nothing of your agreement with the King, or of your relationship. I mean this with no offence whatsoever Arthur, but I think your father is limiting knowledge of you and Merlin to only a very few people – he wouldn’t willingly share the information with anyone unless he was absolutely compelled to.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully for a moment. “I want Agravaine kept away from Merlin at all times. I don’t know why, but I just have-“

“A bad feeling?”

Arthur smiled slightly. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

Leon blew out a breath loudly. “If the last two years have taught you anything, Arthur, it's that you shouldn’t discount ‘ridiculous’.”

* * *

“Do you want your swimming trophies, Merlin?” Will called downstairs. “You can show them off to the Pendragons when they come round for tea.”

Merlin grimaced as he heard his ‘friends’ burst into laughter above his head. “Fuck off, Will,” he muttered as he taped up a box of books in the living room.

“Language, Merlin.”

Merlin whirled in surprise, momentarily overbalancing as his mother pursed her lips at him. “Sorry, Mum.”

Hunith sighed and sat on the sofa. She patted the material next to her and waited for her son to join her.

Merlin steeled himself slightly. His mother was looking at him as if he was about to keel over.

“Merlin,” she sighed again as she grasped his hands, “I’m worried about you, my boy.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin smiled, but he could feel the already-ragged edges of control fraying further under the power of his mother’s knowing gaze. “Honestly.”

Hunith nodded, but Merlin knew she didn’t believe him. “When you ran out of here at Christmas,” she said eventually, her voice soft enough not to carry upstairs, “I’d never seen you look more sure about anything in your life.”

Merlin ducked his head and squirmed slightly.

“You’ve always had a talent for choosing the most difficult path possible,” Hunith continued, “and you’ve never asked for help unless you absolutely had to. But, darling boy, I can see that you’re carrying around far more than your shoulders can bear and I can’t wait for you to ask this time.”

Merlin looked up at his mother, feeling a burn at the back of his eyes as she squeezed his hands.

“Has something happened with Arthur?” A slight frown began to crease Hunith’s forehead.

Merlin shook his head immediately. “No.”

Hunith’s frown deepened. “Merlin?”

Merlin sighed loudly. “Arthur’s threatened to give up the crown if his father doesn’t accept me,” he babbled out in a rush, somehow believing that the words would have less of an impact if he spoke quickly.

Hunith sucked in a breath and Merlin felt her hands tighten around his own as she tensed.

“But don’t worry,” Merlin soldiered on, aware that if he stopped talking he wouldn’t start again, “I won’t let him do it.  _Arthur_  wouldn’t do that. He knows how important it is for him to take over from his father in the future. He’s going to change the world, Mum. I know he is.”

Hun ith smiled sadly as she surveyed her only child. “And I know that that boy would hang the moon in the sky for you if he thought you’d want him to. Whatever Arthur chooses to do, you have to let it be  _his_  decision, Merlin. But I have no doubt that he’ll make the right choice.”

Merlin bit his lip as he felt it wobble slightly. “He…”

“He what?”

“I don’t think he’s ever going to be okay about magic,” Merlin admitted eventually. “He said he’s fine, but…I know it makes him uncomfortable, and I don’t blame him for that. I-“ He cut himself off with a sigh.

Hunith put her arm around Merlin and tugged him closer. “He’ll get there, Merlin, I’m certain. You’ve had a lifetime to get used to the idea, I’m sure he just needs time to understand it for himself.”

“He’s got six months to p rove that he’s serious about this relationship,” Merlin mumbled as he dropped his head onto his mother’s shoulder. “I don’t think he’s realised what it means, for both of us, when the world finds out.”

“Perhaps you need to give him a little more credit,” Hunith said softly. “I have a feeling Arthur knows  _exactly_ what this all means.”

They sat quietly together for a long moment.

“But you will tell me when it’s time for me to start hat shopping, won’t you?”

Merlin scrunched his nose up in confusion as he pulled back and looked at his mother. “What?”

“For the wedding.” Hunith grinned, nudging Merlin in the ribs.

“Mum!” Merlin moaned, covering his face with his hands.

Hunith ruffled his hair as she stood up. “Now get upstairs a nd help your friends with packing. I’m going round to Nerys’ for a cup of tea.”

Merlin practically threw himself off the sofa. “You’re not going to say anything to her, are you?!”

“Of course not!” Hunith looked appalled at the mere suggestion. “I’m just going to remind her that she may have a new kitchen, but my son has a job working with a Princess.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “It’s a wonder Will and I don’t have deep-seated psychological problems from listening to the pair of you bickering when we were growing up.”

Loud, hysterical laughter from upstairs caused Merlin and Hunith to look up at the ceiling.

“You’ve left your friends alone with Will,” Hunith said slowly.

“Bugger!” Merlin’s eyes widened and he fled from the room ignoring his mother’s horrified cry o f ‘Language!’ as he raced up the stairs to stave off any embarrassing stories.

* * *

Arthur had started to lose feeling in his elbows; they’d been resting on the table, supporting his head in his hands for the past hour. His phone had buzzed three times in his pocket, but he couldn’t risk trying to sneak it out of his pocket. Annis would have no qualms whatsoever about confiscating it for the remainder of the meeting as if Arthur was a badly behaved schoolchild. It wouldn’t be the first time…

“Is Mr Emrys aware of how much work this will require on his part?” Annis clasped her hands together and gave Arthur a hard stare from the other side of the table.

“Yes,” Arthur replied, only the slightest hesitation in his voice.

Annis’ eyes narrowed. “Arthur, have you actually informed Mr Emrys about the expectations that he is required to meet?”

Arthur couldn’t lie in the face of that stare . He squirmed slightly instead, desperately trying to remind himself that he was twenty-three years old and possessed fairly decent skills of rhetoric.

Annis sighed. “Arthur, I’m sure you’re aware of the importance of  _getting this right_.” She fixed him with another pointed glare.

“I’ve asked Morgana to help,” Arthur replied eventually. “She’ll make sure Merlin’s ready for any formal occasions his presence is required at. Are you releasing a statement about his job?”

Annis nodded. “We’ll release on Monday, unless the media take an earlier interest. But, Cambridge Place, Arthur?” She shook her head.

“What about it?” Arthur bristled slightly.

“You know as well as I do that your dear mother moved there when the engagement to your father became official,” Annis replied, the sharp edge to her t one disappearing in a moment of uncharacteristic softness. “You know the press is expecting your future consort to take up residence there.”

“Cadogan Square wasn’t exactly subtle either,” Arthur protested. “At least we can use the excuse that the house is closer to his place of work.”

“You’re going to have to be very careful about all of this, Arthur.” Annis hadn’t returned to her usual ferocity, and it was worrying Arthur slightly. “It will be all our heads if the press get wind of anything before June and any official announcement is made. I’m going to suggest that one of my staff members specifically works with Merlin to ensure he’s capable of dealing with anything that crops up.”

“Who?”

“Mordred,” Annis replied.

“Who?” Arthur repeated. He was sure he’d heard the name before, but coul dn’t remember where.

“Mordred Cornish,” Annis clarified, not that it helped Arthur. “He was here when those claims about jealousy between you and the Duke of Orkney were circulating the tabloids.”

“Ah,” Arthur replied. That must be where he knew him from.

“He’s a bright young thing,” Annis continued, “and he’s spoken to Merlin on a number of occasions so I’m sure Merlin will feel more comfortable about working with Mordred than an arbitrarily chosen spokesperson.”

“But you’ll still be in charge of all official press releases?” Arthur asked. “I’m not comfortable with a young, untested member of your team speaking for Merlin.”

“Of course,” Annis replied. “Although you would do well to remember that Mordred isn’t the only young, untested one at the moment.” She quirked her eyebrow at Ar thur until her meaning was clear. “I wouldn’t recommend him if I didn’t trust him to do the job well.”

Arthur nodded his assent.

“Right,” Annis leaned back in her chair, “I think that covers everything that needed to be said today. I want to see Merlin tomorrow so someone will call in the morning to make an appointment. It would be better for all involved if you were here too, but I won’t require you to stay once all of the contracts have been signed.”

“Contracts?”

“Non-disclosure, etcetera,” Annis waved a hand airily. “Don’t worry, it’s just a formality.”

Arthur nodded again as he stood and shook Annis’ hand. “Thank you, Annis.”

Annis watched him appraisingly for a few moments. “I think I’m going to be quite proud of you, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur was stunned enough to remain silent. In the ten years he’d had Annis bossing him around she’d never expressed much fondness for him, He supposed that was unsurprising considering how difficult he must have made her life at times.

Annis nodded encouragingly again. “Very proud.” With a small smile she was gone.

Arthur shook himself after a few seconds and retrieved his phone. Three messages from Merlin.

**From: Merlin  
3rd January 2013 15:27**

We’re on our way back.  
Sorry I haven’t called -  
too busy trying not to  
murder Will. Where am  
I supposed to take my  
stuff?

**From: Merlin  
3rd January 2013 15:46**

Meant to say, Mum’s sent  
me back with loads of food  
for you & M. Lance has  
already eaten all of the  
biscuits she gave him.  
Have told G&L to stay for  
dinner. That ok?

**From: Merlin  
3rd January 2013 16:22**

Fuck, Arthur. Has Annis  
actually killed you? If not,  
text back, prat! We’re  
stuck on the M4. You still  
haven’t told us where we  
should be driving to.  
Haven’t heard anything  
from Gaius yet.

Arthur rubbed a hand over his face and grinned as he composed his reply.

**To: Merlin  
3rd January 2013 16:33**

Still alive…for now.  
Nice to hear your mother  
is bribing me to keep you  
out of trouble by sending  
food. Smart woman!  
Gwen & Lance can stay. M  
excited about seeing G again.  
Won’t shut up!  
Call me when you cross the  
M25 and I’ll tell you where  
to go. I have to sort  
something out first.  
P.S Morgana wants a  
‘word’ with you.

* * *

“Where do I go? Where do I go?” Lance was yelling as they drove up Kensington High Street for the fourth time. Relying on an outdated map to help avoid the traffic jams hadn’t been the smartest idea.

It really didn’t help that Lance, for all of his usual composedness, was prone to fits of panic when forced to drive around the centre of London. Apparently it was something to do with his parents avoiding driving into the city from Hampstead when he was a child.

“Turn right,” Merlin said as he craned his neck to see street signs more clearly.

“What?” Lance asked as a cycle courier with a deathwish whizzed past.

“Right!” Merlin called. He spared a thought for poor Owain who had driven faithfully around after them, wrong turnings and all.

“Right!” Gwen shouted from the bac kseat as she pointed uselessly behind Lance’s head. “Go right!”

“Alright!” Lance indicated, turning quickly, and once more they found themselves in the rabbit warren of streets that made up this part of Kensington. “Where? Where?”

Merlin pointed straight ahead. “I think you need to keep going until the end. Then turn left. And then left again.” Merlin turned and looked at Gwen. He tilted his head towards Lance and rolled his eyes.

Gwen laughed and shook her head. “It’ll be nice to see Arthur and Morgana again,” she said when Lance finally breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the sign for Victoria Road.

“Apparently Morgana’s been talking Arthur’s ear off about you,” Merlin grinned, laughing slightly when he saw Gwen blush.

“Cambridge Place! Cambridge Place!” Lance announced in the manner of a small child who has just seen a sweet shop.

“Lance,” Gwen said gently as they finally parked outside the address Merlin had been given, “I love you, but once we’ve taken the car back to your dad I’m never letting you drive across London again.”

Lance pouted slightly.

“Thanks for driving, Lance,” Merlin grinned as he stepped out of the car, immediately feeling out of place as he took in he houses on the small street. He knew that was slightly ridiculous considering he’d spent most of the past week residing in royal residences, but still…

He felt a sudden pang of nostalgia for the first flat he’d shared with Gwen in Albion.

“Well, no going back now,” he muttered as he looked up at the house.

“Are you talking to yourself?”

Merlin looked up with a grin at Arthur’s voice. The prince was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded as he smirked at Merlin. “I hope you’re planning on helping to unload the car.”

“Not likely,” Arthur shrugged, waggling his eyebrows.

“He’s on his way!” Morgana appeared at Arthur’s side, giving him an unceremonious shove.

Arthur stumbled forward and for a split second Merlin thought Arthur was going to end up face first on the garden path. Thankfully he righted himself without the need for Merlin to employ any magic.

Morgana made a beeline for Gwen and tugged her into the house before either girl could be roped into unpacking the car.

“Well,” Lance said after he shook hands with Arthur, “it seems we’ve been deserted.”

“Typical,” Arthur shook his head at the sound of giggling wafting out from the o pen door of the house. He reached over and hooked his little finger over Merlin’s for a brief moment.

Merlin smiled at the pavement and turned to open the boot.

“Christ, Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed as he looked at how many boxes were stuffed in. “Did you bring everything you own?”

“Don’t blame me!” Merlin held up his hands before pointing at Lance. “If I’d let that lot have their way we’d be crippled under a mountain of swimming trophies and baby photos right now. I kept it to a minimum.”

“Ah!” Arthur grinned as Owain and Leon came over to assess the situation. “You two don’t mind helping Lance do you?” He pointed at the boot of the car. “I need to take Merlin on a tour and explain everything. Terribly important.”

Merlin’s eyes bugged when he found himself being pushed towards the house.

“Go!” Arthur hissed, pushing Merlin again until they were stumbling up the stairs. “Go, go, go.”

“What the fuck?” Merlin squeaked when Arthur pulled him through a door at the top of the staircase.

“Welcome home,” Arthur whispered, his breath hot against Merlin’s ear before he pressed Merlin against the wall.

“Arthur,” Merlin gasped slightly, Arthur’s lips now only a fraction away from his own, “there’s people downstairs.”

“Your point?” Arthur grinned, his eyes roving over Merlin’s face slowly.

“You’re a prat, you know that right?” Merlin felt his cheeks beginning to burn as Arthur’s hands gripped his wrists, effectively barring his escape.

“This is payback,” Arthur’s grin headed into smirk territory as his breath ghosted over Merlin's lips. “According to Morgana, I looked quite deranged last night. I think that was your fault.”

“You didn’t complain at the time,” Merlin tried to laugh, but it came out far breathier than he’d hoped.

Arthur’s smile widened before he let go of Merlin completely.

“Arthur!” Merlin’s eyes widened in outrage as Arthur opened the door.

“Merlin,” Arthur shrugged. “You said it yourself, there are people downstairs.” He grinned again before turning away and leaving Merlin sagging against the wall.

“I hate you so fucking much, Pendragon,” Merlin grumbled as he glared at Arthur’s retreating back, before sliding down the wall and landing with an ungraceful thud.


	8. Chapter 8

“You know, last night, Morgana looked far too happy about the fact she’s going to be bossing me around.” Merlin scrunched up his nose as he stared at the ceiling.

Arthur snorted and the repetitive curl of his fingers through Merlin’s hair paused for the briefest of moments. “You should have thought of that before you agreed to work for her.”

“Hey!” Merlin protested, turning onto his side and prodding the elbow Arthur was using to support his head. “You practically begged me to take the job.”

Arthur smiled lazily. “You have to admit there are benefits to you not living in Ealdor.”

Merlin rolled his eyes but shifted closer to Arthur anyway, the heavy feather duvet crunching delightfully as he moved. “You’re right,” he said, raking his gaze over Arthur’s face. He tried not to smirk as he watched Arthur’s s mile disappear slightly, pupils dilating. “I love this bed.”

With that, Merlin tapped Arthur on the nose with one finger and laughed loudly at the stupefied expression that crossed the prince’s face.

“Right,” Arthur pursed his lips. “I see how this is going to be.”

Merlin really should have expected what happened next. Within seconds he found himself flat on his back with his hands pinned to the pillow next to his ears.

“Get off, you great oaf,” Merlin wheezed as Arthur sprawled completely on top of him with a pout. “You’re bloody heavy.”

“Are you calling me fat, Merlin?”

Merlin wriggled slightly, trying to work his way out from under the ton of bricks on top of him. “You’re like a baby whale,” he coughed. “In fact-“ Merlin cut himself off and inhaled through his nos e.

Merlin frowned. He inhaled again.

“Arthur?” He asked slowly as the prince smirked down at him.

“Yes, Merlin?”

“Why does it smell like a bakery all of a sudden?” Merlin looked around, half-expecting a parade of freshly baked loaves to appear from under the bed.

“Oh, did I forget to mention something?” Arthur feigned surprise as he released Merlin’s wrists and rolled back onto his pillow.

“Mention  _what_?”

“Your housekeeper was due to arrive this morning,” Arthur shrugged.

Merlin’s eyes widened and he blinked rapidly. “What? But you said that you…but Agravaine…and you-“

“Very eloquent, Merlin,” Arthur looked slightly disgusted, “I can see that you’re going to do bri lliantly with the press when the time comes.”

“ _Arthur!_ ”

“Look,” Arthur said, fixing Merlin with an unwavering gaze, “right now I want us to have as many allies as we possibly can.”

Merlin frowned. “I don’t under-“

“It’s Maggie,” Arthur shrugged.

“Maggie?” Merlin repeated. “Maggie from Balmoral, Maggie?”

Arthur was clearly biting back another grin. “Yes,  _clotpole_ , Maggie from Balmoral.”

Merlin was surprised enough to ignore the fact Arthur was using his own made-up words against him. “Why?”

“You’re going to have enough to do in the next few months, I’d rather I didn’t have to worry about you wasting away because you forget to cook.”

Arthur’s answer was so earnest that Merlin had to look away for a second. “Are you trying to mother me, Arthur Pendragon?” he teased when he glanced back up.

“Of course not,” Arthur scoffed, the slightest pink tinge apparent on his cheeks. “I just don’t want your mother baying for my blood if she sees you looking all skeletal on the cover of  _Hello!_ ”

Merlin snickered into his pillow as Arthur climbed out of bed. The prince pulled on the formal trousers he’d been wearing the night before and began searching fruitlessly for his shirt. Merlin knew exactly where the shirt was, but didn’t release the information until Arthur was underneath the bed looking for it. “Last I saw it, your shirt was on the stairs.”

A dull thud, followed by a muffled ‘ _ow, bloody oww_ ’ suggested Arthur had misjudged his retreat from under the bed by a few inches. “Brilliant,” he groaned. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin grinned. “Also, I think your tie might be in the kitchen.”

Arthur shot him a derisive smile before opening the bedroom door. There was a pause. “Ah.”

“Ah, what?” Merlin asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows and craning his neck to see what was going on when Arthur reached down to pick something up.

“It would seem Maggie’s already taking her job quite seriously.” Arthur said, holding up his neatly folded shirt and tie.

Merlin laughed as Arthur slid on said shirt and tie, looking every inch the composed prince within seconds (if you ignored the fairly drastic case of bed-hair he was experiencing) through proficient buttoning and straightening.

“I need to get back over to the Palace and have a shower,” Arthur patted his hair do wn as he squinted into the mirror. “It’s early enough that nobody should notice anything. Come over when you’ve had breakfast.”

Merlin grinned like the besotted loon he was when Arthur turned around and smiled at him.

“What?” Arthur asked, shaking his head slightly.

“Nothing,” Merlin continued to beam inanely. It felt domestic and comfortable. He could admit that to himself even if he did think that Arthur would laugh at him if he said so.

Arthur gave a long-suffering sigh, but was smiling again by the time he sat back down on the bed to pull his socks and shoes on. “Annis wants to see you later,” he said and Merlin swallowed loudly. “Relax, she’s got a plan. She’s intent on giving you your own PA.”

Merlin made a strangled sound at that, all thoughts of domesticity whizzing off into the ether. Maggie he c ould cope with. Maggie was  _lovely_. Maggie made the best breakfasts Merlin had ever had in his life. But a  _PA_?

“Apparently you know him already,” Arthur replied, either oblivious to Merlin’s mental trauma, or at least pretending he was. “Mordred, I think she said.”

Merlin remembered how to breathe. Okay, maybe that wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting; Mordred had been nothing but pleasant in their previous interactions. He told Arthur as much.

“See?” Arthur ran a hand through his hair as he stood up. “You’re just being pre-emptively overdramatic.  _As usual_.”

“Pre-emptively overdramatic?” Merlin arched an eyebrow.

Arthur nodded and leant down until he was inches from Merlin’s face.

“Don’t even think about it.” Merlin pressed a hand to Arthur's lips. “Not until you keep a toothbrush here.” He pointed at Arthur’s hair. “You also need to find a hairbrush.”

Arthur smirked, ducking around Merlin’s hand to snatch a brief kiss anyway. “Shut up.”

The prince moved to retrieve his phone from the sofa across the room and Merlin watched his expression fall slightly after a few seconds of staring at the screen.

“What?” Merlin asked, immediately alert.

“Gaius has apparently faxed some translations through to the number Leon gave him yesterday,” Arthur said slowly, looking over at Merlin as he raised one hand to run across his jaw.

Merlin felt his stomach roll slightly. He’d enjoyed a blissful nightmare-free sleep and hadn’t thought once about the book since waking up. “Oh.”

Arthur stood for a few seconds, seemingly un sure whether he should pocket the phone or continue shuffling his feet awkwardly. “It doesn’t…”he trailed off, dropping his eyes to the floor.

Merlin waited silently for Arthur to continue.

“It doesn’t matter what happened…before,” Arthur looked up, confirming his belief with a nod. “I mean…Gwen’s lovely, she’s  _great_ , but…” he shrugged, clearly at a loss as how to express himself.

Merlin gave a nod of his own. He understood what Arthur was trying to say. Merlin had found his eyes frequently drawn to Gwen the night before, unable to believe that his wonderful friend and Queen Guinevere Pendragon could be the same person. He’d found it impossible to see her with anyone but Lance, but he wasn’t sure whether that had made him feel any better. He shook himself again; he wasn’t going to allow himself to be jealous of a ghost. No matter what the book rev ealed.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin, pet.” Maggie smiled warmly as Merlin appeared in the door of the kitchen.

“Hi, Maggie,” Merlin grinned slightly sheepishly. “You really didn’t have to come all the way down to London.”

Maggie’s smile only grew wider as she gestured for Merlin to take a seat at the kitchen table. ”It’s nice to be back where I started.”

Merlin’s eyes widened as he suddenly found himself confronted with a stack of toast and three boiled eggs. It took a minute for Maggie’s words to permeate his consciousness, and even when he realised what she had said he was still distracted by his breakfast. “Back where you started?”

“Yes,” Maggie said, her gaze sweeping around the kitchen. Obviously finding everything to her satisfaction she picked up a mug and sat down at the table. She frowned slightly when Merlin con tinued to look at her expectantly. “Arthur did tell you that this was his mother’s house, didn’t he?”

Merlin nodded silently as he cracked the top of one egg with a teaspoon. The fact that this was Ygraine’s house had most certainly not gone unnoticed. Arthur hadn’t mentioned the fact more than a couple of times, but Merlin couldn’t help but feel the  _significance_  of the prince’s decision to move Merlin here.

“And you know that dear Ygraine lived here in the year before her marriage to His Majesty the King?”

_What?! No, Merlin did_ **not** _know_ _that small fact. Oh God, what was this going to look like to the world?_

Merlin inhaled the crumbs he’d just licked from his thumb and started coughing.

Maggie, with a speed Merlin had only ever witnessed in his mother, had a glass of water in his hand within seconds. Merlin gulped gratefully, the dry toast catching at his throat as he did so.

“Thank you,” he rasped eventually as his eyes continued to water. He was going to kill Arthur for keeping this from him. He couldn’t believe that Uther had actually agreed to this as it was, but particularly now that Merlin knew the significance of this house in the Pendragon family history. He was starting to think Arthur had no grasp of subtlety whatsoever.

Maggie gave him a knowing look. “So, your prince neglected to mention that small detail, did he?”

Merlin nodded. “He’s good at leaving out important details sometimes.”

Maggie laughed. “I couldn’t disagree with that. He was always very good at ‘forgetting’ to tell people where he was going when he’d decided he’d had enough of being confined inside the palace w alls. He, of course, would always claim that he’d  _meant_  to tell his bodyguards, and tell them that surely they should know where he was anyway.”

Merlin laughed slightly as he imagined a tiny Arthur folding his arms and acting snootily towards anyone who  _dared_  question his whereabouts.

“His mother was quite like that,” Maggie smiled again, but there was a softer quality to it this time. “She used to disappear for hours, just walking around London looking like anybody else you might pass on the street.”

Merlin almost felt as if he was violating a private memory by listening to Maggie speak, but he felt a rush of warmth just to know more about the woman Arthur seemed to take after. “So you worked here when the Queen lived here?”

“I did,” Maggie stated proudly. “I moved to Buckingham with her after the wedding and stayed unti l Arthur was eight. Then I left to look after Balmoral when it was clear that His Majesty had no intention of visiting the House.”

Merlin smiled at her as he munched on another slice of toast, noticing that Maggie appeared to possess the power of clairvoyance as she’d boiled the eggs just the way he liked them.

“Listen to me prattling on,” Maggie laughed as she stood, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “You probably have a busy day ahead of you. I can just  _imagine_  the list of tasks your Arthur has created for you.”

“Oh, so can I,” Merlin rolled his eyes slightly at the thought. “So can I.”

* * *

Arthur had the faxes lying on the desk in front of him. He hadn’t actually read anything yet, but the sketch from the first page seemed to be staring up at him, just daring him to take a peek at the secrets the book contained. He wouldn’t look at the information without Merlin though. He’d promised.

Leon was sitting opposite, his fingers tight on the arms of the chair. “Arthur, you can’t be serious.”

Arthur met Leon’s incredulous stare head on. “I’m completely serious, Leon. I have no reason to lie about this to you.”

“A dragon?” Leon’s frown deepened. “There’s a dragon out there?” He pointed vaguely out of the window, and Arthur was struck by how he’d gone through the same process only a couple of days earlier.

“I’d prove it to you,” Arthur replied, “but firstly I have no idea ho w to get inside the bridge. And secondly, I’d rather avoid meeting that creature again for as long as possible.”

Leon looked completely flummoxed. Arthur couldn’t really blame him for that. He’d had forty-eight hours to get over the shock and he still couldn’t quite believe that it was true.

“And the dragon told you about this book?” Leon gestured at the pages on the desk. “And this book is the reason Merlin caused an evacuation of the British Museum on Wednesday?”

“Yes.” Arthur nodded, fully aware of how insane it all sounded. He hadn’t told Merlin that he was planning on informing Leon about everything. In fact, he hadn’t really made a decision at all until he’d held the faxed documents in his hand and realised that he needed to tell  _someone_  or he’d start believing that he’d dreamt the whole thing up and he and Merlin were actually suffering from some kind of folie à deux.

Leon was clearly struggling to come to terms with Arthur’s story though. “And apparently you’ve lived before and are actually King Arthur from the legends?”

This was really still the sticking point for Arthur. “Apparently.”

“Arthur, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how insane this sounds,” Leon said carefully.

Arthur ran his hands through his damp hair in frustration. “I know. Trust me,  _I know_.”

A nod was the only confirmation Arthur received before the study door opened and Merlin practically raced into the room.

“Knocking, Merlin, have you heard of it?” Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin stared at him. “I could have been in the middle of a meeting.”

Merlin had the good grace to appear slightly shamefaced. “Sorry, but you did tell me to come over straight after breakfast.”

Arthur shook his head and turned his attention back to Leon. “Can you let us know when Annis arrives? Owain should go back to the house. Maggie said she had some errands to run and I don’t want the house empty.”

Leon’s face slipped straight back into its professional mask before he stood and nodded. “Of course, Arthur.” He headed for the door, shooting a quick smile at Merlin as he passed.

“What’s wrong with Leon?” Merlin frowned. “Has your sister been trying to inveigle him into professing his undying love?”

“What?” Arthur looked at Merlin, his mouth dropping open in bewilderment. “Inveigle hi- _what?!_ ”

Merlin momentarily cycled through a series of expressions that caused him to look somewhat similar to a startled stoat. No t that Arthur could remember ever seeing a startled stoat…but the description seemed to fit nicely.

“Just ignore me,” Merlin spat out eventually as he dropped into the chair Leon had just vacated. “So…the book?”

Arthur took a deep breath and pushed the papers forward on the desk. “Gaius has sent the first three pages along with a note asking you to call him the minute you've studied these. I haven’t read them, but it looks like he’s kept the sketches with the original page they correspond to.”

Merlin stood up and dragged his chair around to the other side of the desk, the legs scratching loudly on the parquet.

Arthur sighed loudly. “Pick the damn thing up, Merlin. You have arms!”

Merlin, much to Arthur’s chagrin, ignored the jibe completely and was soon settled next to the prince, his hands resting next to Arthur’s on the desk.

“Ready?” Arthur asked when Merlin turned slightly to look at him.

“Yeah.”

They looked down at the introductory page that have given them both cause for surprise the first time they’d seen it. The sketches of Arthur and Gwen ( _Guinevere?_ ) still made Arthur’s heart jump into his throat for a moment.  _How could it be possible?_

The only three words on the page now clearly stated the title of the text and the name of the author.

 _Courage_  - Guinevere Pendragon.

Arthur wasn’t at all surprised when Merlin slid his left hand sideways until his little finger was pressed snugly against that of Arthur’s right hand. The meaning was clear.  _Together_.

Arthur took a deep breath as he retriev ed the second page with his left hand and placed it where they could both see. There was no drawing accompanying the words this time. Just the words of a woman, long since dead…if she’d even existed at all.

_I, Guinevere Pendragon, swear that this is a true account of the reign of Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, and King of Camelot._

Arthur swallowed loudly as the buzzing sensation he’d experienced at Merlin’s mention of the Round Table two days earlier flared in his veins. Merlin’s hand had inched onto the top of Arthur’s now.

_The testimonies herein have been collected by the Knights of Camelot, loyal to my husband even beyond death._

Arthur heard Merlin’s breath hitch. At least he thought it was Merlin’s and not his own.

_All accounts have been verified by those who knew the true circumstances surrounding the King’s rise from Crown Prince to defender of his people. Gaius, Royal Physician and loyal subject of Camelot, has spoken on behalf of He who was instrumental in the building of this great kingdom and the peace that has followed the death of our King._

Arthur’s heart was hammering and he clutched at Merlin’s hand, fingers and fingernails digging painfully into soft skin.

_The sorcerer Emrys, known to us as Merlin, has not returned to Camelot in the twelve years since assisting the King on his final journey. Sir Percival and Sir Leon continue to search for him, but I fear we are heading towards a time when we must begin to believe that the search is fruitless. ~~Emrys~~  Merlin was lost to us when the King succumbed to the whim of Fate. Yet Emrys, if the whispers of those with magic are to be believed, lives on, and will do so until he restores the Once and Future King from Avalon to his rightful place as the Saviour of Albion. Arthur will return when Albion’s time of need dawns._

Arthur looked at Merlin, unsure of which one of them the violent tremor was running through. Merlin’s face was ashen and he looked only seconds away from keeling over. But Arthur knew he couldn’t possibly look much better.

“Christ, Arthur,” Merlin’s free hand was now scrabbling uselessly at Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur. Arthur. This isn’t real, is it?”

Arthur could only stare back, knowing that his eyes were as wild as the ones he was fixed on. He opened his mouth to speak, but he’d lost the ability to form words. His left hand was shaking as he reached up to trace Merlin’s cheekbone. “You were with him when he died. With  _me_.”

The prince was dully aware of the tea rs leaking from his own eyes, too busy was he watching the progress of salt trails on Merlin’s face.

“Oh God.” Merlin flinched suddenly, tearing his hands away from Arthur.

Arthur watched in horror as Merlin sobbed loudly, tripping over the legs of the chair as he struggled to get away. Merlin was clutching one hand over his mouth and the other to his heart as he shook his head wildly.

“Merlin!” Arthur managed to jolt his body into swiftly pushing himself out of his chair and stepping towards Merlin. “Merlin!” He tried in vain to get Merlin to stand still. Arthur’s own breathing was stilted, but Merlin was taking in huge gulps of air.

“I remember,” Merlin hissed brokenly. “Oh God, Arthur, I remember it. The first time.  _The first time_. I couldn’t do anything. I  _failed_. Jesus, Arthur,  _I couldn’t save you_.”

Arthur, his own heart breaking at the anguish on Merlin’s face reached out and pulled Merlin to his chest, arms encircling him tightly enough that he couldn’t escape.

They managed only scant seconds before their trembling legs buckled underneath them. Arthur did his best to cradle Merlin to his chest as they landed roughly on the floor of the study.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered into the Prince’s chest. “Oh God, Arthur, I’m sorry.”

Unable to do anything else, Arthur simply tightened his grip and held on for dear life.


	9. Chapter 9

Merlin wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed to get from the floor of Arthur’s study to leaning against the sink in the bathroom up the hall. Rivulets of cold water threaded between the remnants of his tears, cleansing the drying tracks from his cheeks before falling into the steady rush of the sink below. He clutched the porcelain tighter as his breaths finally evened out into something resembling regularity save for the occasional hitch.

Arthur’s hand remained on the small of Merlin’s back; heat from his fingers radiating through layers of clothing as an ever-present reminder that the prince was alive, and solid, and  _there_.

Merlin glanced up into the mirror, droplets still caught on his lashes as he locked eyes with Arthur. He blinked the moisture away, running his hand across his forehead to displace the damp strands of hair that clung uncomfortably to his skin.

“Sorry,” Merlin rasped eventually as he reached for the towel Arthur had placed next to the sink. He could still feel the tremor in his bottom lip, but the sense of vertigo that had slammed into him in the study appeared to have receded completely.

Arthur shook his head silently.

Merlin dropped the towel onto the counter suddenly aware of the puddles of water that had formed on the marble. “I've made a mess.”

“How surprising.” Arthur had obviously been aiming for sarcasm, but his words didn’t carry anywhere near enough of his usual confidence.

Merlin could tell that Arthur was itching to ask him if he was okay, but Merlin was equally certain that the prince would hold the question in. He was grateful for that; the answer would be far too complicated.

“Maybe…”Arthur trailed off and Merlin felt himse lf being tugged around gently so that they were facing each other. Arthur stared at him for a long moment before continuing, “I don’t think we should read the book. I can’t see how it’s going to help. Why do we need to know any more about the past?”

Merlin searched Arthur’s face, eyes never quite meeting. Arthur didn’t mean what he’d just said, Merlin was sure of that. The idea of Arthur Pendragon choosing not to pursue the truth seemed laughable. He shook his head. “We need to know, Arthur. For whatever reason we’re supposed to be here  _now_. You read it too – The Once and Future King will rise during Albion’s time of need. That book is the only clue we have.”

Arthur’s narrowed slightly. “But that doesn’t even make sense. You said that you remembered  _the first time_.”

“Hmm?” Merlin asked distractedly.

“ _The first time_ ,” Arthur repeated, this time with a little more hesitation. “That’s what you said in the study. Are there…other times?”

Merlin swallowed, shivering slightly. He remembered being with Arthur; the two of them sprawled on wet grass as Merlin began to realise the futility of his quest. He remembered knowing that Arthur had accepted his fate with far more grace than Merlin ever would, and Merlin had been unable to do anything other than hold him close and ask him to stay. He remembered the battlefield from his dreams; the victory cheer and Arthur’s red uniform. He remembered snatches of him begging Arthur to pull back as their horses charged through a darkening valley with shells raining down around them.

Eventually Merlin nodded, feeling ill. “I don’t remember everything completely. I just know that you…that  _I_  can’t protect you.”

Arthur’s f ace crumpled slightly and Merlin watched as the prince fought his expression back towards the vicinity of confidence.

“What happened…to him?” Arthur asked carefully. “To King Arthur?”

Merlin ran a hand over the back of his neck as he forced himself to think about the flash of memory he’d been assaulted by earlier. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t see  _how_  it happens. Just immediately before, or immediately after. Magic isn’t enough to save your life.”

Arthur swore softly and Merlin found himself flush against Arthur’s chest before he had time to blink.

Merlin shifted slightly, tucking himself under Arthur’s chin, ensuring his palm was flat against the prince’s chest. “Something… _someone_  told me that I have to break the cycle.” He felt Arthur tense immediately. “Whatever mistakes I’ve made in the past, I  _have_  to rectify them. As Merlin, or Emrys, or whoever I need to be to make it  _stop_.”

Arthur pulled back. “I hope you don’t think you’re just going to charge off on your own and do something stupid.” The prince frowned. “Because if you do, you’re more of an idiot than I thought you were.”

Merlin frowned and opened his mouth to protest.

“No!” Arthur cut him off by tightening his grip on Merlin’s arms. “Whatever happens,  _if_  anything happens, we’ll work out how to solve this together. You need to trust me, Merlin, because I’m not letting you get yourself killed. I don’t care how noble you think your intentions are.”

Merlin sighed; arguing would be entirely pointless, and it’s not as if he actually  _wanted_  to work everything out on his own. “So we’ll read Guinevere’s book?” p>

Arthur nodded slowly. “And you’ll tell me everything you remember.”

“I really don’t think th-“

“ _Merlin_!” Arthur’s voice held no gentleness. “It wasn’t a question.”

Merlin withered under Arthur’s stare. He nodded his acquiescence and blew a breath out through his nose. “I should speak to Gaius.”

Arthur looked ready to challenge the slight change of subject, but Merlin was relieved to see him let it go. “ _I’ll_  speak to Gaius when you’re in with Annis and Mordred.”

“But you’ve never met Gaius properly. You've only spoken to him for about ten minutes…”Merlin trailed off as he thought of the book.  _Royal physician_. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

Arthur looked surprised when a laugh burst from of his lips. “Merlin,” he shook his head slightly, “did you just half make a joke about all of this?”

Merlin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned. Arthur’s fingers slipped down to catch Merlin’s wrists and pull them away. Merlin started slightly at the small smile just about visible in the corner of Arthur’s mouth.

“Of all the people in history,” Arthur spoke softly as his smile grew, “ _you’re_  the one who ends up as a logic-defying, reincarnated sorcerer.” He shook his head, the fondness in his eyes making heat flare in Merlin’s chest. “And you end up stalking me through time.”

Merlin scrunched up his nose, relieved they had somehow navigated their way back to the familiar territory of harmless mockery. “It’s not very romantic when you put it like that, Arthur.”

Arthur grinned, and if th e light in his eyes was slightly dimmer than usual Merlin wasn’t going to call him out on it. “Romantic? I think you’ll find people have written  _poems_  about me.”  _God_ , Merlin could see how hard Arthur was trying…for  _him_.

Merlin smiled back. “I think you’ll find that those poems are also about me.”

“They’re mainly about me.”

“Prat.”

* * *

Arthur hoped Annis wasn’t going to ask him any direct questions about everything she’d been saying in the half hour since he and Merlin had been ushered into the first floor drawing room. Arthur had spent the entire time going over what had happened that morning, his gaze never straying too far from Merlin.

He wasn’t sure that he was ever going to be able to fully accept the fact that he had lived before. The idea seemed far too fantastical, and went against everything Arthur had ever believed about life, death, and the universe. The evidence, he had to admit, was becoming increasingly compelling, but he’d yet to feel the connection for anything more than a fleeting moment.

It was surprising, therefore, that Arthur was entirely ready to believe that if he had lived a number of lifetimes then it would be Merlin who had lived them alongside him. He’d known from almost th e first time he’d met Merlin in Meribel that there was something  _undeniable_  about him, something that convinced Arthur that no matter how complicated everything was going to be he had made the right choice.

Arthur shifted in his chair when he saw Annis passing a document to Merlin. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts as he tuned back into the conversation around him.

“It’s a standard non-disclosure agreement,” Annis said as Merlin grasped the thick bundle of paper. “I, of course, won’t pressure you to sign now if you’d like to take it away and read it through. As a friend of the family it was understood that you would exercise due care and discretion when discussing the Pendragon family in public. However, the nature of your relationship with Prince Arthur would demand that we now follow the procedures in place for the official induction of a royal consort.”

Merlin jerked so violently Arthur wasn’t surprised to see that the movement had resulted in a paper cut.

“Consort?” Merlin squeaked, stuffing the side of his index finger into his mouth. “But I’m not a-“

“It’s just a term, Merlin,” Arthur said as confidently as he could. He twitched slightly when Annis arched an eyebrow at him.

“Hmm,” Annis returned her attention to Merlin. “Regardless of how you would term your current status, Merlin, I must ask you to sign this document to avoid any form of difficult legal wrangling in the future. It is as much for your protection as for that of the Pendragons.”

Arthur was avoiding making eye contact with Merlin. He knew it was only going to be a matter of time before someone let slip the information that the house on Cambridge Place was always intended to house Arthur’s future queen consort . In fact, he was surprised Maggie hadn’t mentioned it already; he’d been fully expecting Merlin to admonish him for withholding that little fact when he’d arrived in the study that morning.

“It’s fine,” Merlin responded eventually. “Do you have a pen?”

Arthur almost laughed at the mulish look on Merlin’s face, but kept quiet. Mordred, however, whom Arthur only vaguely recognised, didn’t seem to suffer from the same qualms and was obviously holding back a grin from where he was perched next to Annis.

Cambridge Place wasn’t supposed to be a declaration of intent.

Not in the  _immediate_  sense anyway.

Not  _really_. Arthur couldn’t even begin to comprehend the constitutional minefield they’d be facing  ~~when~~   _if_  aforementioned intent was confirmed, reciprocated and announc ed.

 _Bloody hell_. Arthur tightened his fingers on the arms of his chair. Now was  _not_  the moment to be thinking about any of that. Although he did reason that he probably should have mentioned some of this to Merlin before this moment. However, it was too late to worry about yet another thing Arthur Pendragon had got wrong in their relationship so far.

Arthur momentarily forgot himself and looked up to see Merlin staring at him, finger still in mouth and his eyes narrowed in annoyance. The prince tried to convey an apology through telepathy, but Merlin only rolled his eyes slightly and handed the signed document to Annis.

“Would you like a copy to read over before I file this?” Annis asked Merlin carefully. “In case you don’t agree with any of the terms.”

Arthur found himself watching Merlin’s reaction very carefully.

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “Arthur trusts you.”

Arthur felt one corner of his mouth quirk up at that. He did trust Annis; that was certainly true. He was just pleased that Merlin had picked up on that fact underneath all of the complaints Arthur made about Clarence House on a nigh on daily basis.

Annis looked thrilled for the briefest of seconds, before once more donning her usual air of haughty professionalism. “Very well.” She turned to the prince. “Arthur, I need you to countersign Merlin’s agreement.”

Arthur frowned slightly. “Why?”

Arthur swore that Annis smiled slightly before she replied. “Your appointment as Counsellor of State requires you to sign this agreement as His Majesty is unavailable. Furthermore, as this will bear your signature, Merlin’s instruction in protocol, contractual obligations,  _and_  a ll correspondence with outside agencies, will be dealt with through  _your_  offices.”

It was a buffer. Just a tiny loophole that wouldn’t stand up to much if Uther really set his mind to making Arthur’s life difficult, but it was enough to make Arthur instantly grateful for having Annis on his side. “Clarence House to Kensington?” he asked, already reaching for the pen Mordred was proffering towards him.

Annis nodded. “All matters pertaining to you or Merlin are dealt with exclusively by me in the first instance. Anything you need to know about, you’ll know about, Arthur.” She fixed him with a knowing look. “In plenty of time.”

Arthur made a mental note to find some way of thanking Annis as soon as possible. He grinned slightly and signed his name with a flourish, aware that Merlin’s eyes were on him the entire time.

“Well,” said Annis as she passed the papers to Mordred, who dutifully placed them in a folder, “I think that’s all I need you for, Arthur.”

Arthur saw Merlin freeze out of the corner of his eye.

“Merlin,” Annis said, clearly amused by Merlin’s obvious fear, “there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you and Mordred before you leave.”

Arthur stood and buttoned his jacket up before holding his hand out for Annis and Mordred to shake. He glanced quickly at Merlin, pleased to see a familiar disgruntled expression on his face (it was a huge improvement on the devastation that had resided there earlier). When Merlin looked up briefly Arthur threw caution to the wind and leant down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

Merlin’s eyes widened as Arthur straightened up. The prince, stifling another grin, just about caught Annis’ smirk before he turned a nd opened the door.

“This won’t take much time, Merlin,” Arthur heard Annis say just as he was pulling the door shut behind him. “I know Morgana wants to start working with you this afternoon.”

Arthur finally laughed as Merlin’s indignant squawk was cut off by the click of the door closing

* * *

Merlin was glowering at Morgana in silence. He was mildly grateful that his current irritable mood was giving him less time to dwell on anything pertaining to past lives. Still…he could do without Morgana looking smug,

The princess was sitting primly in her mother’s armchair a beatific smile on her face, which had appeared the moment Merlin had started ranting about Arthur and hadn’t faded one jot in five minutes. Merlin, with a fleeting upwards glance, internally threatened the universe with destruction if it didn’t start giving him a break.

“I think it’s lovely,” Morgana grinned eventually, biting her lip.

Merlin huffed. “I thought you swore you were going to be on my side,” he arched his eyebrows as he spoke. “I distinctly remember you threatening Arthur on my behalf in the past.”

“Merlin,” Mo rgana shook her head and  _she was still smiling_ , “my idiot brother, who one day will actually be trusted as the figurehead of this country, has finally done something  _brilliant_.”

“Brilliant?”

“Yes, brilliant!” Morgana exclaimed as she reached forwards and grabbed Merlin’s hands. “Do you know how often he’d stood up to Uther in the past?”

Merlin shrugged.

“Never,” Morgana squeezed his fingers for emphasis. “Then he met you, and when he  _finally_  pulled his head out of his privileged arse-“

“ _Morgana!_ ”

“Arse,” Morgana repeated slowly, and Merlin knew she was thoroughly enjoying making him squirm. “My point is, Merlin, that Arthur is trying to show you how much he cares. It’s just fairly typical that he’s doing it in the most dramatic , yet surprisingly clumsy, way possible.”

“ _Consort_ , Morgana,” Merlin scrubbed a hand through his hair. “ _Consort_. Do you think he even realises what this is going to look like to everyone when it finally comes out? I’m living in the house that was supposed to be for his future  _bride_.”

Morgana shook her head slightly, the smile not receding. “Arthur rarely does things without knowing full well what the consequences will be. He’s been brought up to be cautious. Look how long it took him to stop being a tit and tell you he liked you.”

Merlin dropped his head onto his chest. It’s not that he didn’t appreciate everything Arthur was doing.  _God_ , it was the complete opposite of that. It’s just that-

“You wish he’d told you what he was up to,” Morgana said as if she’d read his mind.

Merlin nodded.

“And what would you have done if Arthur had explained just how important that house is, not just to him, but to my mother’s memory?”

Merlin thought carefully for a second. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Morgana replied steadily. “You would have tried even harder to talk him out of getting you to move to London. You would have both turned back into the pair of stupid, stubborn idiots you were for most of your friendship and neither of you would have backed down over some outdated nonsense about being noble. It’s 2013, Merlin. The time for falling on swords has passed.”

Merlin blanched slightly at Morgana’s choice of words.  _Swords_.

“What?’ she frowned, leaning closure to inspect his face for the answer he wasn’t going to give.

“Nothing,” he pasted a smile onto his face. “I’m fine. Nothing.”

Morgana did  _not_  believe him. That was evident in the look that she shot him as she folded her arms. “Am I going to bully you into having that conversation about dreams that you promised me?”

Merlin shook his head. “No. Just  _not_  today, Morgana. Please?”

Morgana’s calculating gaze seemed to be taking in every detail of Merlin in that moment. Eventually, after long seconds of making Merlin feel like a trapped rabbit, the princess’ posture relaxed as she nodded. “Fine. But I’ll ask you again tomorrow.”

Merlin swallowed loudly. He knew she would hold true to that threat.

“So,” Morgana’s expression suddenly shifted to one of barely-suppressed glee, “I’m to teach you how to be a princess.”

“Morgana,” Merlin gro aned.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Merlin,” Morgana pouted slightly as her words dripped with mockery, “after all, you are very pretty.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“You’re joking,” Merlin grinned slightly. However his humour fell away when Morgana remained stern faced. “Wait…you’re  _not_  joking?”

Morgana shook her head silently.

“I thought you were going to teach me how to bow properly or something,” Merlin complained, waving the thick textbook he’d just been handed in the air. “I’ve just had an hour’s history lesson on the Pendragon family and took eight pages of notes, Morgana. I didn’t think I was also going to be forced to learn Danish.”

“Merlin,” Morgana sighed as she clasped her hands in front of her and took a seat on the opposite side of the table, “I’m sure it didn’t escape your notice that Uther is rather  _keen_  to maintain ties with the Danish Royal Family.”

Oh, Merlin knew  _exactly_  how keen Uther was about that. H e was still half expecting Arthur and Elena to be kidnapped and forced into marriage at some point. (He chose, for a number of reasons, to keep that thought to himself and just nodded instead.)

“Arthur will still be expected to maintain ties with the Copenhagen,” Morgana continued. “It would be quite useful for you to be able converse in the language, don’t you think? That way you won’t miss  _anything_  that’s being said when Uther decides it would be terribly rude for anyone to speak English.” She looked at him pointedly.

“Ah,” Merlin said slowly as understanding dawned.

“Ah indeed,” Morgana replied. “Read chapter one tonight and we’ll go through it together tomorrow.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow,” Morgana spoke in the slow manner of one conversing with an idiot. “ Oh, and don’t ask Arthur for help. His grasp of Danish grammar is  _appalling_ so I’ll know if he’s been anywhere near your homework _._ ”

 _Homework?_  Merlin wanted to smother himself with the cushions on Morgana’s sofa. “Okay, can I go now?”

Morgana arched her eyebrows again. “Go  _where_?”

“To do my homework?” Merlin asked, already feeling like it was completely the wrong thing to say by the time he’d drawn breath to start speaking.

“Of course not,” Morgana’s imperious tone suggested she thought Merlin was entirely ridiculous. “You’re going to be working with the public starting on Monday, Merlin. We need to cultivate stock answers for any awkward questions that may arise. I’ve asked Mordred to draft some examples. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Fine,” Merlin r eplied eventually.

“Merlin,” Morgana said more gently, “I know it sounds ridiculous, and it  _is_ ridiculous, believe me, but there’s a certain way of doing things in order to minimise intrusion in our lives. If you’re not completely sure about any of this then you need to speak to Arthur, because…” she trailed off, but her meaning was clear.

Merlin’s failure to live up to certain standards could cost Arthur the crown.  _Fuck_ , and that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? If Arthur was going to try to understand and accept  _magic_ , then surely Merlin could follow a bunch of outdated rules and regulations.

“Oh, and just so you know,” Morgana smiled slightly as the knock at the door heralded Mordred’s arrival, “bowing lessons aren’t until  _much_  later. It’s all far more complex than you think.”

Merlin didn't think she was joking.


	10. Chapter 10

“It’s not funny,” Merlin growled into his phone as Arthur responded to his crisis with yet another bark of laughter. “ _Arthur_!”

“Sorry,” Arthur cleared his throat, but Merlin could still hear the grin, “of course it’s not funny.”

Merlin sighed tiredly as he settled back onto his pillows. He’d spent the evening attempting the exercises in the textbook Morgana had foisted on him, and reading through the stock answers Mordred had prepared for dealing with public questions. Arthur had conveniently had an evening engagement to attend so had already been whisked off to the other side of London by the time Merlin escaped Morgana’s clutches so had managed to escape an introduction between  _The Way to Danish_  and the back of his head.

“Merlin?” Arthur actually sounded a little more contrite that time.

"Twenty-nine letters, Arthur,” Merlin grumbled, curling his toes happily as he sank further down into the plush bedding. “That’s three more than I ever thought there should be. I mean, I’ve managed nearly twenty-two years perfectly content with being fluent in one language a-

“Well that’s debatable.”

“Bugger off,” Merlin huffed. “I’ll admit my French isn’t brilliant, but I can get by if I need to. But,  _Danish_ , Arthur?  _Danish!_ ”

“I had to learn it too, you know,” Arthur replied. “So did Morgana, and Elena.”

“Yes,” Merlin agreed, “but you all probably started learning at  _birth,_  and you didn’t have Morgana haranguing you about it.”

“I’ve had Morgana haranguing me about enough other things in life, Merlin.”

Merlin laughed slight ly at that. “Actually, come to think of it, she told me your Danish was terrible and that she’d know i-“

“She said  _what_?” Arthur’s cry was so indignant Merlin had to hold the phone away from his ear.

Merlin grinned as he half-listened to Arthur complain about his sister for a few seconds. The sheer normality of the conversation was rather like a balm for his soul after the harrowing thoughts that had punctured his temporary domestic bliss that morning. He hadn’t asked Arthur about his conversation with Gaius, and Arthur hadn’t ventured any information; Merlin was more than a little relieved that they could save  _that_  conversation for daylight hours.

“Are you even listening to me?” Arthur’s change in tone forced Merlin back towards wakefulness.

“No.”

“Typical,” Arthur yawned, Merlin doin g the same thing a split-second later. “Now go to sleep. I’m coming over for breakfast. I was going to bring Morgana, but I don’t think she deserves any of Maggie’s baking now.”

Merlin laughed sleepily. “I’m okay, I’m not that tired.” He  _was_ that tired, but a tiny niggle in the back of his mind kept reminding him that sleep might bring another rush of memories he wasn’t quite ready to deal with. “Tell me about your dinner with the Prime Minister.”

“Boring,” Arthur replied immediately with a sigh. “That man is so incompetent it’s laughable. The only saving grace was the apple strudel we had for dessert.”

Merlin snorted. “Trust you to like the  _food_  part of the evening.”

“Shut up.”

“Most people seem to like him though, don’t they?” Merlin asked thinking of the fairly gen ial man who was on television more often than not. He was a bit of a dab hand when it came to manipulating the media to increase his popularity, and his landslide victory in the previous May hadn’t taken anyone by surprise. “The public, I mean. Nobody ever really says anything bad about him.”

“Only because they don’t have to work with him,” Arthur replied, a slight bite to his tone. “He hasn’t a clue about running anything, and just does whatever his advisors tell him. I suppose my father likes it that way; he hates it when politicians question his power and influence. It gives him indigestion.”

Merlin frowned. “I thought that was the point of the government. To question the monarchy and the constitution as it stands.”

Arthur was silent for a long moment. “Oh God,” he breathed eventually.

“What?”

“I've brought some kind of liberal revolutionary into the family, haven’t I?”

Merlin laughed. ‘It’s alright. I promise I won’t say anything to your father. I value my life, after all.”

Arthur snickered. “Actually, I’d love you to bring it up over dinner at Sandringham next Christmas.”

Merlin, choosing to ignore the fact that Arthur was already thinking of next Christmas (because added to the consort announcement it was all getting rather serious for the first Thursday in January), forced a laugh in reply. “You’re starting to sound like Morgana.”

“God forbid,” Arthur replied immediately.

A comfortable silence descended and Merlin could feel himself drifting off again. “Thank you for bringing Maggie here,” he mumbled eventually. “She’s happy to be back.”

“Back?” Arth ur whispered cautiously.

Merlin, drowsiness usurping the hold he had on his decision to not tell Arthur he knew about the house’s past, garbled a reply. “She told me a bit about your mother.”

Arthur was suddenly silent, and the lack of soft breaths and the shift of blankets startled Merlin enough to blink some of his sleepiness away. He opened his mouth to say something, possibly to apologise for his exhausted mind losing control over his mouth, but the prince cut him off.

“What did she say?”

Merlin registered the earnestness of the question and immediately regretted having begun this thread of discussion over the phone.

“Merlin, what did she tell you?” Arthur sounded far younger than he should in that moment. “Please.”

Merlin rubbed a hand over his face, unwilling to let fatigue damage his res ponse in any way. “She said that your mother used to sneak out without telling anyone. Just like you.”

Arthur made a soft noise, and Merlin couldn’t be sure if it was the shade of a laugh or a hint of sadness. “I assume Maggie told you she worked there when my mother moved to London.” Arthur said eventually. “Before she married my father.”

“Yes,” Merlin replied quietly.

“I’m not…”Arthur trailed off. “It doesn’t mean…”

Merlin recognised the next sound as one of frustration. “Arthur, just… _thank you_. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“I…you’re welcome.”

They fell silent until Merlin yawned again.

Arthur laughed lightly. “Go to sleep, Merlin.” The prince’s voice was slurred from the draw of sleep.

“Mmm,” was all Merlin managed in response, the phone drifting from his grasp onto the pillow next to his ear.

 

**ooOOoo**

If Merlin had voiced his expectations for the way he would wake up the next morning he probably would have guessed that his gradual drift into awareness would include the delicious smell of pastries wafting up from the kitchen (Maggie had announced she was going to make croissants over dinner), and the almost imperceptible rumble of traffic in the distance.

He wouldn’t have assumed that he’d be rushed (practically  _thrown_ , if you’d asked him) out of the house by Owain, then bundled through a small crowd of people and into the back of a very familiar car, the air sparking with something as the door was closed behind him. He wouldn’t have assumed that he would end up tripping over on the gravel as he was pulled into Kensington Palace. Nor would he have assumed that he would find Arthur and Morgana awaiting his arrival wearing matching looks of concern.

Merlin perhaps sho uld have spent more time considering the old adage ‘when you assume! you make an ass out of ‘u’ and ‘me’’. So, of course, you can guess which morning Merlin found himself living.

Merlin, still reeling from his hands slamming into the cold gravel, was almost knocked off his feet when Morgana rushed forwards to throw her arms around him. He looked over her shoulder, spluttering slightly as he inhaled her hair in surprise, to see Arthur. The prince had his eyes closed as he stood completely still at the bottom of the sweeping staircase.

“Are you alright?” Morgana pulled away before grasping Merlin’s face between her two hands and wrenching him closer again.

“What the hell is going on?” Merlin eventually managed to ask as he twisted out of Morgana’s grasp. He looked past her again and saw that Arthur was now conversing with Leon and Owain in hushed tones. Merlin spare d a thought for the bodyguards; were they programmed from birth to deal with Pendragon drama twenty-four hours a day?

Merlin finally took a moment to really  _look_ at Morgana when she exhaled loudly. Her face was paler than usual and she was still wearing pyjamas, suggesting she’d probably been roused in a similar manner to Merlin, and it was obviously much earlier than he’d thought.

“The cameras on Cambridge Place showed someone outside the house,” Morgana stopped and swallowed loudly. “Owain was alerted and Percy drove over to check. It could have been someone out for an early run.”

Merlin studied Morgana carefully. “But it wasn’t?” He asked slowly.

Morgana shook her head. “Percy was attacked the second he stepped out of the car.”

Merlin felt his heart rate increase at her words. He liked Percy; he was funny, and apologised profusely for pre tending to be the director of Morgause’s documentary every time they passed each other. Percy, however, was also the most intimidating of Arthur’s security detail so for Percy to have been overpowered so easily… “Fuck. Is he okay? What happened? Where’s Maggie?”

“Maggie’s fine. They’ve taken her to Buckingham for now. But…they think someone used magic, Merlin,” Morgana replied quietly. “Percy was hit by something, and then he disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Merlin’s eyes widened.

“Owain saw it happen,” Morgana nodded. “He was there one moment and then…They’re looking for him now, but they don’t know where to start.”

“Who’s looking?” Merlin asked, a sense of trepidation washing over him as he waited for Morgana’s answer.

The princess paled further. “Uther’s Council.”

_Oh. God._

“And,” Morgana continued, her voice shaking slightly, “Uther’s ordered Arthur to ensure that the magic user is caught…and suitably punished. Arthur’s heading a witch-hunt. I can’t…I mean…Arthur’s…”

Merlin looked away, knowing what Morgana was trying to say, and found Arthur looking back at him. The prince was talking to Leon, but he barely blinked as Merlin stared in slight horror.

“Morgana,” Merlin said quietly as he drew his eyes back to the princess, “Arthur will find whoever did this to Percy. This isn’t going to turn him into your father. He won’t turn against magic. He’s promised that he won’t let the Council abuse their power.”

Morgana nodded, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “I know, Merlin, I know. You’re right.” She stepped backwards, releasing her hands to run them up over her face and through her hair.

“I did my homework,” Merlin tried to infuse his voice with joviality to see if it would improve the mood. He was gratified to see Morgana smile slightly.

“Good,” she replied, jabbing his arm lightly with her finger, “because this isn’t a good enough excuse to avoid your studies.”

Merlin only managed half a smile before Arthur appeared at his sister’s side.

“Why don’t you go back to bed, Morgana?” Arthur asked gently, squeezing the princess’ hand for the briefest moment. “There’s nothing more to be done until they’ve swept the area.”

Morgana folded her arms, not in the standard Pendragon show of defiance, but instead as if to shield herself from an invisible threat. She nodded minutely, gave Merlin a glance full to the brim with coded messages and retreat ed to apartment without a word.

“Well…” Merlin said when it became clear that the sudden onset of selective mutism was not confined to just one sibling.

Arthur visibly shook himself at the sound of Merlin’s voice. His nose scrunched up in slight distaste as he took in the dishevelled mess standing in front of him. “Why do you look like that?”

“Sorry,” Merlin rolled his eyes sarcastically as he looked down at his ruined pyjamas, knees poking through holes in the material. Great, he was going to end up with scabby knees like a seven year old. Brilliant. “I’ll try to be more coordinated next time I’m pulled out of my bed and chucked into a palace.”

Arthur closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just come with me,” he said quietly, gently nudging Merlin’s shoulder as Leon and Owain began to delegate tasks to the growing cr owd of security officers.

Merlin followed Arthur wordlessly into a room off the corridor. He looked around in surprise when Arthur shut the door behind them; there seemed to be glass exhibit cases dotted around what looked like a dining room.

“This all used to be open to the public,” Arthur shrugged by way of explanation as Merlin folded himself into an antique chair that had clearly been designed for aesthetic purposes rather than the sitter’s comfort.

“Arthur, what’s going on?” Merlin didn’t like the fact that Arthur was keeping himself to the other side of the room.

“I’m sure Morgana’s already explained,” Arthur replied, an odd undertone in his voice that Merlin couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah…” Merlin shrugged. “But I’m asking  _you_  now.”

“Percy was overpowere d by some form of magic,” Arthur braced his arms on the back of one of the many dining chairs. “Owain swears that he saw Percy on the ground, and then a second later he was gone. Whoever had been loitering outside disappeared in the same instant.”

“Do you have any idea why they took Percy?”

“To prove a point?” Arthur barked slightly. “To prove that they have the power to make someone vanish? To show that they’re not scared of using magic right under the noses of the royal family? Well, my father wants me to prove something to  _them_. ”

Merlin recoiled slightly at Arthur’s tone. “Arthur-“

Arthur let out a frustrated shout and shoved the chair roughly, the legs scraping loudly on the floor until the arms hit the wood of the table. “What am I supposed to do Merlin? Hmm?  _What_? My father wants me to hunt down a sorcerer. I can’t say no. I don’t  _want_  to say no, not when we don’t even know where Percy is.”

“Arthur I-“

“How am I supposed to find a sorcerer? Hmm? I didn’t know  _you_  had magic, for Christ’s sake,” Arthur ran a hand through his hair, and Merlin could see how hard the prince was tugging on the strands caught between his fingers. “I don’t trust Aredian. I don’t trust  _any_  of them. My father has accepted that they couldn’t have known about Nimueh…but I can’t...”

“Arthur,” Merlin slowly pushed himself to his feet and took a tentative step towards the prince.

“How can I hunt someone down and condemn them for using magic? Inflict a punishment that will be far harsher than if Percy had been taken without magic? How can I do that when there’s  _you_. And  _Morgana_?” Arthur’s eyes were wide, h is pupils blown as he tried to sift through the myriad of thoughts in his head. “I’m already enough of a hypocrite.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said gently, cutting the distance between them with another few paces, “forget about the fact you’re looking for someone with magic. Something happened that sho-“

Merlin was cut off when Arthur grasped his shoulders roughly. “Why would anybody take Percy?”

“Well, like you said…”Merlin trailed off, surprised to have his own earlier question posed to him.

“They wouldn’t, Merlin,” Arthur shook his head. “It was completely by chance that Percy was the one to arrive first.” His grip on Merlin tightened. “They were there for  _you_.”

“You don’t know that,” Merlin replied, his argument sounding pathetic to even his own ears.

Art hur let out an exasperated breath. “Who else knows about your magic, Merlin?”

Merlin frowned, squirming slightly in Arthur’s grip. “My mum, Gaius and Will. That’s it. You know that.”

“Do you think anybody could have seen you the other day?” Arthur didn’t loosen his fingers. “At the museum?”

“No,” Merlin shook his head vehemently. “Fuck, Arthur, get off.”

Arthur, awareness seemingly dawning, released Merlin and took a step back, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Arthur?” Merlin tentatively reached a hand out to encircle the prince’s wrist. “Arthur, I-“ Merlin stopped short.

_Oh bloody fuck. No._

“What?” Arthur’s eyes snapped to Merlin’s face.

“Aredian,” Merlin breathed. “Aredian knows about my magic.”

“But he said you didn’t have magic,” Arthur shook his head, his eyes searching Merlin’s for clarification. “He said-“

“Aredian has no way of knowing who has magic and who doesn’t,” Merlin lowered his voice. “I’m certain of that.”

“How?”

A pause. “Dragon.”

Arthur looked like he wanted to say something in response to that, but thankfully he held his tongue.

“But he was working with Nimueh,” Merlin continued. “How can he still be working for your father?”

Arthur blew out a loud breath. “My father has been entirely convinced that Cara Nimueh was the s ingle weak link in his Council. Aredian and that doctor are both still integral members. And Agravaine…”

Merlin frowned. “What about Agravaine?”

“I think Agravaine’s up to something,” Arthur admitted. “He doesn’t know about… _us_ , but if I could imagine anyone deliberately trying to push us into a mistake, it’s him.

“So Aredian’s looking for a sorcerer,” Merlin said, looking directly at Arthur, “and he already knows about my magic…and now magic’s been used near the house and-“

“He wouldn’t dare accuse you of sorcery now!” Arthur said fiercely. “If only for the fact my father would probably have him killed for lying about it in the first place.”

“Why does he pretend to be able to detect magic?” Merlin asked, perhaps more to himself than to Arthur. “In a world where most people don’t even know it exists. What’s the point?”

Arthur was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “But all of  _this_  happening now…I don’t like it, Merlin. Maybe you shouldn’t be in London right now. I’m sure we could make something up about y-“

“No,” Merlin said firmly, shaking his head and stepping close enough to Arthur they were almost nose-to-nose. “I’m not leaving. I can help you find Percy. I can help you find whoever was using magic. We’ve got to read the book  _together_. I can’t leave you Arthur.”

“But Aredian-“

“Not leaving.” Merlin shook his head. “And if you so much as even  _think_ about trying to con Owain into kidnapping me I-“

Arthur leant forward to rest his forehead against Merlin’s, effectively ending the rant. “You’re going to be bloody-minded and stubborn about this, aren’t you?”

“Would you expect anything else?” Merlin asked, a slight smile gracing his lips.

“No,” Arthur replied, sounding  _almost_  disgruntled about it.

Merlin closed the gap between them, capturing Arthur’s top lip between his. The world could have been ending around them and it wouldn’t have stopped Merlin from covering that distance. Arthur, for every ounce of bluster and determination, was  _worried_ …and that was enough for Merlin to forget about everything else.

Arthur pulled back only enough that Merlin could feel his lips moving against his own when he spoke.

“I was scared,” Arthur sighed across the arch of a cupid’s bow. “This morning when the alert about the intruder came in.”

“It’s alright to be scared, Arthur,” Merlin replied as Arthur’s hands crept around to his waist. “But you have the  _best_  people surrounding your family, and they will never let anything happen to you.”

“ _I_  will never let anything happen to you,” Arthur said quietly. “Or to Morgana.”

Arthur’s words were soft but the threat was discernible; Merlin knew that Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate if anyone he cared about was in danger. Merlin wondered if Aredian knew just how thin the ice below his feet actually was.

“Arthur!”

Leon’s yell from the corridor startled them apart, and they were just stumbling away from each other when the door burst open. Leon was moving so quickly he practically skidded to a stop.

“What’s happened?” Arthur asked, immediately adopting an assured stance by raising his chin as he s poke.

“It’s Percy,” Leon looked bewildered. “He’s just walked up to the gate.”

Merlin’s eyes widened as Arthur looked to him in surprise. He didn’t need to be psychic to know exactly what the prince was thinking.

“What if…” Arthur trailed off.

“Percy isn’t  _Percy_?”


	11. Chapter 11

“What do you mean, Percy isn’t Percy?” Leon asked, looking quickly between Arthur and Merlin.

Arthur struggled momentarily for a response. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure why his first thought upon hearing of Percy’s return had been that the man was potentially an impostor. It didn’t help matters that Merlin had verbalised the thought. He shook his head, deciding that it more be more appropriate to gain further information from Leon than to admit his suspicion was based on nothing more than a feeling. “Why would Percy walk up to the gate? There’s protocol in place for the aftermath of an attack or accident.”

Arthur, sensing Merlin’s eyes on him, turned slightly to explain. “If any member of the security team is alone when they are injured, or if they’re isolated due to the intervention of a hostile force, the man in question is supposed to use whatever means nec essary to extract himself from the situation. When he’s clear, protocol states that he assesses the area to find a secure waiting point – the tracking device on his phone gives his location to the rest of the team.”

Merlin frowned. “Did you memorise that from a book?”

Arthur looked slightly aghast for a moment. “Merlin, that’s not really t-“

“What happens if they take his phone?” Merlin asked. “Wouldn’t he need to make his way to somewhere to let everyone know he was okay?”

“Yes,” Leon interjected, bobbing his head slightly as he looked at Merlin, “but there are secure points all over London. Percy should have travelled to one of the designated locations, not straight for a royal residence.”

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face as Leon confirmed his thoughts. Percy had been working under Leon’s tutelage for the best part of a year; there was no way he would have veered from procedure – Leon, after all, was a stickler for procedure; it was one of the reasons why Arthur trusted him more than almost anyone else. “”You said he walked up to the gate. I take it he’s not injured then?”

Leon inclined his head. “He seems to be in perfect health, Arthur. Elyan’s holding him at the gate until we get clearance to move him to St James’.”

Arthur pursed his lips, already aware of Leon was about to request of him.

“Arthur,” Leon looked slightly pained, “your father’s Advisory Council will be questioning Percy about what happened. Aredian has already asked that you c-“

“Let me know when the car is ready,” Arthur cut Leon off with a sharp nod. “Ensure that Percy is transported securely. He’s not to be alone at any point until we’re sure of what happened this morning.”

“Of course.”

Merlin nudged Arthur’s shoulder as Leon left them alone.

Arthur was clearly getting more adept at reading into Merlin’s silent gestures. “No,” he said firmly, not allowing his eyes to meet the imploring gaze he knew he’d find.

“But-“

“Merlin.” Arthur did turn at Merlin’s protest. “Even if it wasn’t completely against every regulation in the book I still wouldn’t take you to St James’ right now.”

“How are you going to know if there’s any magic at work?” Merlin waved his hands as he was wont to do whenever Arthur gave him the ‘wrong’ answer. “You know that Aredian can’t spot magic and-“

“Merlin!” Arthur repeated, this time with more force. He wasn’t sure whether to feel gratified or slightly ashamed that Merlin stepped away slightly. “Aredian is one man. He is  _not_  the only person on the Council. You don’t know whether there is anyone there who actually  _can_  detect magic, so, please excuse me for wanting to keep you away from anyone whose sole intention is to rid the country of magic. “

Merlin’s mouth was set in a grim line and for a few seconds Arthur was sure that he was going to protest again.

“Fine.”

Arthur swallowed in surprise. “What?”

“I said ‘fine’,” Merlin bit out. “But you have to promise to let me know the second anything weird happens.”

“Merlin,” Arthur was slightly horrified to hear how much his voice had softened in response to Merlin’s concern, “there’s probably nothing wrong.” Arthur didn’t believe that. “Anyway, you said i t yourself – I’ll be surrounded by the best people. Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Arthur believed  _most_  of that statement.

Merlin scowled silently in response.

Arthur just about held off on rolling his eyes. “I promise.”

Merlin shifted slightly, the only warning Arthur received before he found himself pressed up against the wall, warmth blooming in his face as Merlin trailed kisses along the prince’s jawline.

A hushed voice in Arthur’s brain politely requested that he extract himself from his boyfriend’s grasp in order to go and find something princely to do (Arthur was irritated to discover that this voice sounded suspiciously like George). Arthur batted the voice away immediately in favour of the one reminding him that he was perfectly allowed to enjoy said grasping and that he should probably respond in some way rather than stan ding there stupidly.

Hands that had momentarily drooped uselessly at the prince’s side regained their ability to move, one weaving into Merlin’s hair and the other slipping around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer.

Merlin’s mouth eventually found Arthur’s, at the same time as one hand ran across the hem of the prince’s t-shirt for a second before hitching the fabric up enough to pass warm fingers over the skin underneath. Arthur hadn’t been prepared to be on the losing side of the battle when it came to kissing, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be dismayed when he realised it was the case.

Arthur would  _never_  admit to the slight whimper that escaped when Merlin pulled away. The other boy looked wrecked - hair sticking up more wildly than usual and his lips a much deeper shade than they had any right to be at this time of the morning – and Arthur had a feeling that he couldn’t look much better himself.

“That…” Merlin blinked slowly a few times, “ _that_  is to remind you what most certainly will not be happening if you get yourself killed. Alright?”

Arthur wanted to say something clever, but the encouraging voice in his head took a moment to remind him that he should probably fall all over himself to appease Merlin, and that opening his big mouth would probably be detrimental to the cause. Capitulating to the whims of another was generally not something Arthur enjoyed, but as Merlin was the impossible exception to almost every rule Arthur had ever constructed for his life he wasn’t entirely surprised when he found himself nodding mutely.

“Go and be princely then,” Merlin tilted his head towards the door. “I’ll just go and submit myself to Morgana’s evil machinations, shall I? I genuinely think she’ll be t he death of me.”

As Arthur watched Merlin walk away he only had one thought.

 _You, Merlin, will probably be the death of **me**_.

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur thought he was being incredibly restrained, all things considered. He’d spent over an hour in the same room as both Agravaine and Luther Aredian and hadn’t yet killed (or even lashed out at) either one of them. He’d forced himself to remain calm. However, from the pointed looks Leon kept shooting at him from across the table, Arthur would safely surmise that he hadn’t being particularly good at keeping his increasingly darkening thoughts from his face. He had often prided himself on his ability to keep his emotions entirely in check and away from official business; clearly Merlin was intent on ruining this skill for him. Arthur almost smiled at the thought; silently blaming Merlin for momentary lapses in princeliness was surprisingly amusing.

A sharp cough from Leon suggested that the twitch Arthur had felt on his lips hadn’t been invisible. Poker face back on, Arthur studied Percy carefully onc e more.

Percy, for all intents and purposes, looked exactly as he had when he’d left Kensington that morning. He didn’t seem to be injured, concussed, or anything other than apologetic for his disregard for protocol.

“Just one more time,” Doctor Muirden nodded at Percy, a small smile gracing his features for the briefest of moments. “In order to be completely clear of the facts.”

Percy sighed and Arthur didn’t blame him. The prince had lost count of how many times Percy had gone through the events that led to his surprising reappearance. He would hazard a guess that this was somewhere around the seventeenth retelling, and he’d certainly bet on the story not diverging from the same details that they had heard the first time.

“As I said,” Percy looked unwaveringly at the man questioning him, “I arrived at the premises just after seven fiftee n. There was someone in the front garden, positioned almost mid-way between the pavement and the front door. The trespasser was dressed in dark clothes and his, or  _her_ , face was completely obscured due to a combination of the darkness of the morning and the position of a hood and scarf.”

Percy’s eyes darted to Arthur briefly, an unnecessary apology clear.

“I saw Owain as the door opened,” Percy continued. “The trespasser turned towards me and then I have no recollection of anything until I awoke in the park.”

“And your disregard for the instructions to wait for assistance or make your way to a designated safe area?” Agravaine sneered slightly.

Arthur twitched, and Leon shook his head minutely.

Percy bowed his head. “I apologise  _again_  for not following regulations. My phone, as you know, was found on the pavement in Cambridge Place. The nearest safe area was beyond Kensington; I would have had to walk past the Palace in order to get there. I thought making myself known at the Palace was the most sensible option…considering the circumstances.”

“And you still cannot account for the forty minutes you were missing?”

It was a testament to Percy’s character that he hadn’t just leapt over the table and demolished everyone smaller than him (which was everyone) for asking the same questions repeatedly. Arthur was sure that the Percy sitting across from him was the very same Percy who had survived an attack by Morgause, who always had a friendly greeting for Merlin, and was a bloody good man all round.

“I think we’ve heard enough,” Arthur said steadily. He held his hand up when he saw Agravaine open his mouth to protest and turned to Percy instead. “Thank you, Percy. Pleas e take the rest of the day as leave.”

“Your Royal Highness,” Percy ducked his head slightly, “with your permission I’d like to conduct the rest of my assigned duties today as I am uninjured.”

Arthur contemplated the request for a moment. He couldn’t really be so sure why he trusted Percy’s innocence so completely, but he was sure that he would have had an  _inkling_  of something if any force was exerting power over the man. Merlin would probably tell him he was being stupid for...actually  _no_ , Merlin would tell him he was being stupid if he  _didn’t_ believe Percy’s story.

“Of course,” Arthur nodded, giving the other man a small smile. He turned to the man seated beside Percy. “Galahad, thank you for your assistance. Please drive Percy back to the Palace.”

Percy took that as his cue to leave, Galahad following clo se behind.

Arthur was surprised that it took Agravaine more than a split-second to open his mouth once the door closed behind the two guards.

“You’re sending him back to Kensington?” Agravaine was clearly livid.

“I have no reason to believe he’s lying to us,” Arthur casually clasped his hands as if he wasn’t bothered in the slightest by Agravaine’s impudent outburst. “Galahad will stay with him for the rest of the day. I see no reason to keep him here. Do you?”

Agravaine remained silent for a long moment Arthur’s eyes narrowed, taking in every detail he could about the older man.

“No, your royal highness,” Agravaine managed eventually.

Arthur raised his chin as he looked around the table. Five pairs of eyes returned his stare; only Leon’s held any flicker of respect or friendl iness. Agravaine and Aredian’s hostility was expected, as was the unnervingly negative sense Arthur had of Doctor Muirden. The final two Council members – an almost-entirely silent woman with the unusual name of Niede Triarach (which Arthur was  _never_  going to remember, no matter how many times he was told), and a man who was possibly called Alan (Arthur had still been stuck on Niede Triarach at the moment of introduction) – both radiated, if not open antagonism, something resembling a related sentiment.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Then I believe this meeting is concluded. I assume I can rely on you to brief my father in full, Mr Aredian, although I will,  _of course_ , speak to him directly about the matter as well.” Arthur felt slightly smug as he watched Aredian’s mouth try no to twist into a scowl. “Obviously we need to ascertain why the attack took place in the first place, and why the trespasser was at Cambridge P lace. I expect any developments to be reported to my office immediately.”

The table remained silent but begrudging nods followed.

“Gentlemen, Miss Triarach.” He nodded at them as he stood, not glancing back as he left the room with Leon close on his heels.

 

**ooOOoo**

**From: Merlin  
4th January 2013 09:53**

I take back EVERY SINGLE  
nice thing I ever said about  
your sister. She is a vicious  
harpy who is revelling in my  
embarrassment.

Arthur snorted with laughter as he read the text from Merlin. He pocketed the phone as he stepped out of the car, fully intending to reply when he was safely ensconced in his apartment. He’d lingered at St James’ until everyone had left, just to keep an eye on the Council members’ movements. Thankfully nothing had warranted further suspicion.

His phone buzzed again as he headed upstairs and he rolled his eyes – Merlin wasn’t the most patient of people when it came to awaiting replies. However, his phone kept buzzing which suggested Merlin was sending text after text with barely a breath in between, or, more likely, Arthur’s phone was actually ringing.

The screen showed the 020 area code, but he couldn’t place the rest of the number. Arthur had always been warned against answering numbers he didn’t know, but as his finger hovered over the option to reject the call last minute hesitation set in and he swiped ‘accept’ instead.

“Hello?” Arthur asked cautiously.

“Your Royal Highness?”

Arthur decided it was probably safer to avoid confirming who he was  _just_ yet. “Sorry, who is this?”

“My apologies,” came the muffled voice, “this is Gaius Victor, Merlin’s Godfather.”

“Gaius?” Arthur frowned slightly. “I can’t hear you properly.”

“Sorry,” Gaius replied much more clearly, and it was  _definitely_  Gaius now that the obstruction seemed to have been removed. “I had rather given up hope of you answering. So my head was already back in this chest of books when you did.”

Arthur smiled slightly. “Do you have any more translations for us to look at?”

“ No, Your Royal Highness,” Gaius replied.

“Gaius, please just call me Arthur,” the prince replied. He’d gone through this four or five times with the man yesterday and hoped that it would eventually stick.

“Of course,” Gaius avoided using any title or name. “I take it you have read the final page I faxed over now?”

“No,” Arthur replied slowly, pushing the door to his bedroom open and flopping onto the bed. “After I spoke to you yesterday I’d intended to read the third page with Merlin this morning. Unfortunately, there have been some… _unforeseen circumstances_  that have required my urgent attention.”

Gaius was silent for moment. “Has something happened with Merlin an-“

“No, no,” Arthur shook his head vehemently even though Gaius couldn’t see him. “There was an incident with a member of t he security team.”

“I see,” Gaius replied eventually. “Might I suggest that you read the final page as soon as possible? The information it provides is most certainly… _illuminating_.”

Arthur’s curiosity was well and truly caught, but he wouldn’t look at the page without Merlin. “I’ll look at it as soon as Merlin returns.”

“Arthur…”

.Gaius’ use of his given name was almost as surprising to Arthur as the sudden hesitation in the man’s tone. “Yes?”

“I can’t begin to understand how any of this is possible,” Gaius’ voice was steady once more. “I can, however, anticipate how difficult this is going to be, for Merlin in particular. I fear there will be many things Merlin will find it difficult to reconcile himself with, and I must ask you, Arthur, to ensure he doesn’t lose sight of t he difference between past and present.”

Arthur’s chest twisted at Gaius’ words. “What does it say, Gaius?” he breathed. “What do you know?”

“It is for you both to discover together. It is not my place to say anything else. I called only to discover if you had indeed read the document.”

Arthur nodded to himself. “Of course, Gaius. Thank you for calling. I’ll make sure we’re in touch when we’ve read the next page.”

Gaius sighed. “Make sure that you are, Your Royal Highness. But…just make sure Merlin is okay first. Please.”

Arthur swallowed loudly and Gaius ended the call before the prince could ask any further questions.

What the hell was on that page? Part of Arthur wanted him to rush straight to his office to read about whatever it was that was concerning Gaius so great ly, but he knew that it wasn’t his right to do so without Merlin.

Arthur pushed himself off his bed and decided he probably now had a good enough excuse to extract Merlin from Morgana’s tutelage. He actually dreaded to think what tasks Morgana had invented for Merlin’s crash course on Pendragon politics and expectations. However, he was certain that Morgana was the only person who’d be able to get Merlin up to speed on protocol before the King began doling out obstacles. Morgana had spent most of her life avoiding doing what was expected of her by sneakily subverting rules and regulations until they suited her whims, therefore Arthur was convinced Merlin was in the safest hands possible.

As Arthur approached his sister’s apartment his phone buzzed again. He stopped to check the message just in case it was important.

 

**From: Merlin  
4th January 2013 10:09**

If I live through this I’m  
going to kill you. This  
is worse than anything  
she’s done before! Is  
this really necessary?!?!

Arthur laughed again and typed a response even though he was only seconds away from arriving at Morgana’s study.

 

**To: Merlin  
4th January 2013 10:09**

Relax, it’s only a bit of  
Danish grammar. I’ll be  
there in two minutes to  
rescue you.

Arthur knew Merlin was going to hate the ‘rescue’ comment, but some ineloquent verbal abuse from Merlin would be preferable to the ever-dawning sense that there was far too much going on that was outside of Arthur’s control.

To Arthur's surprise his phone started ringing just as he raised his hand to knock on the study door.

_Morgana_

“Why are you calling?” Arthur asked as he answered the call. “I’m standing outside your study.” He pushed open the door and found the room empty.

“Tell Leon you need him to drive you to Oxford Street,” Morgana stated as though Arthur hadn’t spoken at all.

“What? No,” Arthur responded, looking around fruitlessly as though Morgana and Merlin would appear from behind a piece of artfully placed antique furniture. “ I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not,” Morgana replied with, what Arthur felt, a worrying amount of certainty. “Now come to Oxford Street.”

“How do you know I’m not busy?” Arthur scowled as he left the study and headed back to the west wing of the palace.

“Leon called Owain when you got back to Kensington to update him about Percy,” Morgana replied snappishly. “Thanks for letting me know that he’s alright, by the way.”

“ _Morgana_ …”

“So I know you’re not busy,” Morgana replied, “and I wouldn’t say no to your input right now. As much as it pains me to admit that…”

Arthur grinned at that. “Input?”

“Just get Leon to bring you to Oxford Street. I can’t entirely promise Merlin and I won’t have caused bloodshed if you don’t hurry up.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped slightly. “Oh fuck, Morgana. You want me to come shopping, don’t you?”

“Arthur,” Morgana’s tone had suddenly taken on an edge of steel that meant she was barely containing her patience with her brother, “I’ve got Selfridges closed to the public for another hour, but there are enough interested parties floating around that I can’t just swan into the male changing rooms with Merlin, therefore I’ve had to leave him in the clutches of-

“Oh bloody hell, Morgana,” Arthur interjected, “are you telling me that you’ve left him with that maniac?” He was already heading for the stairs in search of Leon, ignoring the fact he’d left his coat in his bedroom.

“Not by choice, Arthur. I actually checked to make sure  _he_  wasn’t working today. Apparently he heard we were coming and has rearrange d his day off!” Morgana trailed off for a moment. “So, if you don’t get your arse over here in the next twenty minutes I swear to God that Merlin is going to be dressed as an insane personal shopper’s approximation of a human being, regardless of whether you or Merlin like it.”

“I’m on my way.” Arthur waved Leon over from the other end of the corridor.

“Hurry up,” Morgana hissed. “He’s just gone into the changing rooms with something made of purple feathers!”

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur and Morgana had been terrorised by  _He Who Shall Not Be Named_ (perhaps a more terrifying He than the one most people think of) since they were twelve and fifteen respectively, and Clarence House had switched its allegiance (and publicity contract) to Selfridges.

Each season – or every other weekend in Morgana’s case – saw a Pendragon being tugged around the appropriate shop floor and bullied into a wide variety of clothing. Morgana, as she was part-devil in Arthur’s opinion, had always managed to wheedle her way into getting exactly what she wanted in the end…but Arthur, well that was another story.

The prince was quite convinced that magazines and the Internet hadn’t started referring to him as ‘outrageously shaggable’ until he’d broken free of Godfrey Barne’s bizarre approach to fashion at the age of seventeen and stopped wearing anything that was purchased for him at Godfrey’s behest. Arthur had avoided returning to the menswear department of the department store on more than two occasions since leaving school, and he was less than impressed to be there again.

“Your Royal Highness!” Godfrey was already beaming when Arthur popped up at the top of the escalator.

“Godfrey.” Arthur nodded as the man dropped into a bow.

“Your friend, Mr Emrys, is currently working his way through a selection of casual and outerwear,” Godfrey’s smile dropped slightly. “Although he is rather reticent about sharing the results.”

Arthur tried not to laugh. He spotted Owain hovering awkwardly by a mannequin and caught a look of relief on the guard’s face. Clearly Merlin had been driving Godfrey (and therefore anyone within earshot) to distraction for quite a while.

“Yes,” Art hur responded eventually, “Mr Emrys is quite shy. I’m sure I can manage to convince him in to making some decisions.”

Godfrey looked as though he would like to disagree quite strongly with that statement. To be fair, Arthur wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince Merlin of anything. This was Morgana’s department – a now it was a perfect example of how Arthur was going to be totally crap at preparing Merlin for life in the spotlight.

“Of course,” Godfrey bobbed his head. “Would Your Royal Highness be interested in seeing some options for himself at t-“

“No,” Arthur squawked, then coughed to mask the sound. “No, thank you, Godfrey. We’re just here for Mr Emrys today.”

Arthur started heading for the changing rooms, irritated to discover that Godfrey was following him.  _Think, Pendragon, and think quickly._ He wanted to get o ut of here as soon as possible; he and Merlin had some quite urgent reading to attend to (Arthur momentarily wondered how something that could sound so dull could potentially change his life even more dramatically).

A thought struck him. “Godfrey?”

“Yes, sir?” And there was the head bobbing again.

“I believe my sister could use some guidance upstairs,” Arthur inclined his head towards the escalator. “She’ll be lost somewhere in the shoe hall, and I’m sure you have a few suggestions for her.”

Godfrey looked positively delighted. “Of course,” he bowed his head.

Arthur kept smiling at him until he rounded the corner into the changing room,  _alone_.

“Merlin?” he called quietly.

Silence.

“Merlin?” Arthur tried aga in. “It’s just me. He’s gone off to terrify Morgana.”

A door in front of Arthur was wrenched open and a highly disgruntled Merlin appeared. The prince gaped as he took in the skinny jeans, before his face collapsed into horror at the yellow, woollen monstrosity that might have been a jumper, but equally could have just been the result of a loom accident.

Merlin huffed. “This is bloody ridiculous.” He pointed at himself before grabbing a handful of the ‘jumper’. “What in the name of all that is fucking sacred, is  _this_?”

Arthur clamped a hand over his mouth as he snorted with laughter. He couldn’t help it really; Merlin looked like the secret lovechild of Mick Jagger and Big Bird.

Merlin’s expression twisted towards murderous. “Can we please just get out of here? I don’t need new clothes.”

Arthur put out a hand to bar Merlin’s escape – though where Merlin thought he was going wearing that  _thing_  Arthur wasn’t sure. He shook his hand slightly to remove the memory of the fabric on his palm with a grimace. It was somewhat reminiscent of steel wool.

Merlin sighed. “Look, Arthur. I get the fact that I need to know more about politics, and I can even just about get the whole learning Danish thing. But I wasn’t expecting Morgana to hand me over to a complete lunatic for the sake of some clothes!”

“Take that ridiculous thing off,” Arthur replied. “I can’t have a conversation with you when I’m being blinded.”

Merlin tugged off the jumper and reached for another item Godfrey had clearly thrust at him. The fact that Merlin was reaching for said item on the floor suggested it had been thrown there in a fit of pique.

“Hold it,” A rthur tilted his head and Merlin froze.

“What?”

“Godfrey may be the worst personal shopper on the planet,” Arthur replied as Merlin righted himself, “but those fucking jeans are…”

Arthur was surprised to hear himself trail off, but was gratified when Merlin’s cheeks reddened slightly. The prince shook himself after a moment.

“Er…Morgana actually picked those out.”

Arthur made a mental note to thank his sister for her foresight. Then briefly wondered if it would be appropriate. This thought was subsequently chased away by Arthur being sure that Morgana had done this to him on purpose.

“How much do you trust me?” Arthur asked, eventually drawing his eyes away from legs that suddenly appeared to be neverending.

Merlin hesitated. “That really depends o n what you’re asking me to trust you about.”

“I guarantee I can get us around the shop floor and back in here with a more…suitable pile of clothes in less than ten minutes.”

Merlin arched an eyebrow at Arthur’s cocky tone. “Oh are you sure about that?”

“I’m willing to bet on it,” Arthur replied. The small voice from earlier reminded him that he had important things to do. The encouraging voice once again punched the George-voice in the face and made an incoherent comment about jeans.

“Your terms, sire?” Merlin smirked slightly.

_Oh, ho, ho, so someone else was getting a little arrogant too were they?_

“If I find you clothes you have to get those jeans,” Arthur lowered his gaze for a second.

“And if you can’t?”

“Well…” Arthur took a step closer and rested his hands on Merlin’s waist, bringing their faces close enough together that their breaths were mingling in a tantalising heat. “You have to get the jeans anyway, but I won’t l-“

Whatever Arthur was going to say was cut off by a loud crash from outside of the changing room. He let go of Merlin immediately, dimly aware that the other boy was tugging on his own t-shirt before following him.

Arthur’s eyes widened as he saw Leon sprawled face down in the middle of the floor. The remnants of a large display plinth, and the four mannequins that had stood on top of it now lay in pieces around the unmoving man.

“Leon!” Arthur yelled, rushing towards the fallen man, Merlin only an inch behind him. They dropped down beside the guard, unwilling to move him in case of injury, but the prince was pleased to see that Leon was still breathing.

“Fuck, where’s Owain?” Merlin looked around.

“Christ!” Arthur scrambled to his feet and grabbed Merlin’s hand. “Merlin, I need you to run upstairs and check Morgana’s okay.”

“What are you doing?” Merlin asked, eyes wide in surprise.

“I’m going to look for Owain and call the rest of the team up,” Arthur replied, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “Get Elyan down here.”

Merlin looked ready to argue, but Arthur pushed him away.

As Merlin staggered backwards Arthur heard the shot ring out.


	12. Chapter 12

Merlin’s first instinct upon hearing the gunshot was to throw himself towards Arthur. He hadn’t felt any tingling of magic beneath his skin as a prescient warning of what was to come, and there was no slowing of the world around him as had taken place in Meribel; just an overwhelming urge to protect Arthur that propelled him forwards.

Unfortunately for Merlin, Arthur’s first instinct was a variation of that same theme.

“Jesus, fuck, ow!” Arthur yelled as his forehead collided with Merlin’s, each reaching out to the other to steady themselves.

Merlin lurched to the left, one hand automatically rising to press against his face to quell the dull throb left behind upon impact with the prince. Arthur immediately grabbed his free hand and Merlin found himself pushed to the floor a split second later.

“Are you alright?” Arthur ’s hands were roaming frantically over Merlin’s chest, his arms, his face, eventually coming to rest on either cheek. “Merlin!”

Merlin batted Arthur’s had away, still winded from colliding with Arthur  _and_  the shop floor in a matter of moments. “I’m fine,” he croaked out taking stock of the fact they were crouched behind a display of scarves.

Arthur’s eyes were darting around wildly and his teeth were gritted as he breathed loudly through his nose. “Fuck!”

Merlin crawled quickly to the edge of the display and peered around. He couldn’t see anyone lurking, but it quickly became obvious that there were a million places to hide on a shop floor like this. Racks of floor length coats and towering displays of shoes and accessories offered perfect cover for anyone who didn’t want to be seen.

“Get back!” Arthur hissed, his hand gri pping Merlin’s ankles to pull him backwards.

Merlin tried to resist for moment, but Arthur’s tugs only increased in strength until Merlin acquiesced and found himself shoulder to shoulder with the prince as they leant against the display plinth.

Footsteps thundered on the floor overhead and Merlin was aware of the distinct clink of shoes against the metal steps of the escalators; the cavalry was arriving.

“Arthur!” Merlin recognised Elyan’s voice. “Arthur, stay where you are!”

“I’ve got Leon! He’s alright!” Owain called loudly a moment later and Merlin felt Arthur breathe a matching sigh of relief next to him. “I lost sight of the assailant.”

Without warning the lights on the shop floor went out, leaving only an emergency exit sign glowing eerily in the distance. Merlin reached out to grab Arthur’s arm, f umbling slightly in the pitch black surrounding him.

“Nobody move!” Elyan shouted. “We need light.”

Merlin heard discreet clicking sounds and he could see flashes of light suddenly being reflected in the mirrors nearby. Torches. The Security Team had been trained well enough to be prepared, at least.

“Hold!” Elyan barked and a blanket of quiet dropped over the floor.

Merlin could hear Arthur’s watch ticking obnoxiously loudly and momentarily considered stopping the mechanism with a spell.

The unmistakeable sound of a rubber sole squeaking broke through the unnatural silence. Merlin tensed and Arthur gripped his arm tighter.

“Hold!” Elyan shouted again.

Beams of light were shifting around Merlin and Arthur as the guards swept the area with torches.

Another squeak.

Another shout from Elyan.

And suddenly there it was; Merlin almost jumped when he felt the familiar flaring sensation beneath his skin.

“Arthur, do you trust me?” Merlin hissed hurriedly. “My magic?”

Arthur’s breath hitched slightly.

“Arthur?”

“Yes.”

Arthur’s whispered confirmation was all Merlin needed. The fingers of his left hand curled more tightly around Arthur’s hand as he raised his right hand in front of him. He silently sent an apology to everyone around him before whispering “ **Cume þoden”**

The slight hiccupping sound that Arthur breathed beside him caused a momentary burst of despondency to break through Merlin’s adrenaline. But the almost ins tant effect of his incantation brought an end to any thought that wasn’t simply ‘ _protect Arthur’._

The wind whipped around them, tugging at hair and clothes, snatching their breaths before they could draw in air properly. Merlin shifted so that he could pull Arthur’s head to his chest and draw them both together into a protective tangle.

Merlin had never caused this to happen in an enclosed space before, and as the howling of the feverish wind began to reach towards a terrifying roar he hoped he’d never have to do it again. The rattling of rails and shelves grew louder and louder, swallowing the startled cries of the security team.

 _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._ The mantra repeated over and over again in Merlin’s mind. He hated the fact that he couldn’t see the effect of the spell; wouldn’t know when it was  _enough_.

“Merlin!” Arthur’s shout came as barely more than a clipped whisper. “Stop!”

Merlin dropped his hand and the wind died instantly. Thuds and clatters rang out around him, gasping breaths of shock and surprise punctuating the air. Something nearby rolled to a halt; its final settling far too loud in the stunned calm.

He looked up, trying to sense where electricity should be running through the ceiling and cursed himself for never getting the hang of this properly. Eventually he tried to emit a small pulse of magic that would be enough to get the lights back on, but even as he felt the thread leave him he knew it would be too much. The lights flickered on, but almost immediately sparks began arcing between the halogen tiles, fizzing and popping until every light but two dimmed into darkness.  _Great_.

Arthur let go of his hand.

Shuffli ng erupted around them, Elyan barking orders for his men to move, to locate the assailant, to locate the  _magic user_. Merlin sighed before he turned back to Arthur, closing his eyes as he wasn’t quite ready to face the look he knew he’d find waiting for him.

“Elyan!” Arthur shouted.

Merlin opened his eyes and came face to face with Arthur’s leg. More specifically the back of Arthur’s leg as the prince hurried away.

Merlin stumbled to his feet; his legs shaking slightly from the exertion of casting the spells. The sight that greeted him was enough to make him want to kneel back down and hide behind the plinth for the rest of his life. Even in the semi-darkness he could see how much damage had been wrought; previously neatly arranged clothes were strewn around the floor next to headless (and armless) mannequins, the prince’s security team and Selfridges security guards were also littering the ground as they groaned and grumbled slowly to their feet.

Carnage was the only word that sprang to Merlin’s mind. It was confirmed when the shop’s emergency lighting finally kicked in and bathed the floor in a sallow glow.

Arthur was kneeling next to Owain, both talking in hushed voices to a bleary-eyed Leon who had managed to roll himself onto his back. Elyan stood above them, shouting clipped orders into the microphone Merlin knew was concealed under his collar.

A howl of anguish startled everyone and Merlin turned his head to see a distraught Godfrey trying to barrel down the motionless escalator towards his demolished kingdom. Merlin was actually surprised at the valiant effort the man was making; he managed to get past three guards before he was subdued into a weeping mess on the steps.

Morgana descended slowly after him, her mo uth open in a slight ‘o’ of surprise. Her eyes sought Merlin out immediately and she widened them ever so slightly in question.

Merlin shrugged sheepishly, but it was only a second before his own gaze drifted back over to Arthur. Arthur who dropped his eyes back to Leon the second he caught Merlin looking.

_Still not happy about magic then…_

Merlin nodded slightly before turning on his heel and heading for the escalator.

“Merlin. Merlin!”

Merlin’s head drooped as a firm hand landed on his shoulder and turned him around.

“Are you hurt at all?” Elyan asked.

Merlin shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“I want you and Arthur to leave immediately,” Elyan stated, pushing Merlin towards the escalator once more. “I’ll follo w on with the Princess.”

Merlin realised quite belatedly that Arthur was trailing after Elyan, with Owain in tow.

Nobody spoke again until they reached the ground floor and Elyan led the little group through a staff area to reach an unassuming door that would lead them to the side street where the cars had been parked earlier.

Merlin wordlessly climbed into the back of the first car when Elyan unlocked the doors. Arthur got in a second later, all pursed lips and suddenly wearing a coat. The doors locked behind them, sealing them into the small space together whether they liked it or not.

Merlin frowned as he turned his head and saw Owain sliding into the passenger seat of the car behind them.

“What’s Owain doing?” Merlin turned his attention back to Arthur.

“He’s going to Clarence House,” A rthur replied, his face to the window.

“I thought he was driving us b-“

Arthur whirled. “No, he’s not driving us, or anyone for that matter, anywhere, Merlin, because it looks like he’s broken his arm.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open.

“Yes,” Arthur narrowed his eyes, “from when he was knocked to the floor by an indoor whirlwind!”

Merlin tried to protest but Arthur held up a hand, and Merlin was too surprised by the ferocity of the glare he received to form words.

Arthur pushed himself away from the seat and began scrabbling towards the front of the car. Merlin was flapped in the face as the coat billowed out behind the prince.

“Well?” Arthur asked when he was settled in the passenger seat.

Merlin frowned in confusion. “Wel l, what?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and then tapped furiously at a keypad next to the glove compartment, looking pleased when a faint  _click_  came from behind the dashboard. Merlin shifted his head slightly to see what Arthur was doing.

“Well?” repeated Arthur, this time holding up a set of car keys and staring pointedly at the driver’s seat.

Merlin stared dumbly at him for a moment.  _What the hell was Arthur up to now?!_

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Merlin,” Arthur snapped. “Get in the front seat and get us out of here.”

“But w-“

“Merlin!” Arthur barked. “I really would rather not have this conversation in front of whoever Elyan is going to ask to drive us back to the palace.”

Merlin, gritting his teeth, climb ed over the handbrake and gearstick clumsily and landed awkwardly in front of the steering wheel. “Arthur, I really-“

“Go!” Arthur thrust the keys into Merlin’s hand.

“But I th-“

“Last chance,” Arthur said, looking up at the rear view mirror and catching the reflection of Elyan moving towards the car.

Merlin, because he was terrible at saying no to Arthur, even in moments like that one when he was seriously contemplating turning the git into a toad, took the keys and silently hoped that this was a good idea.

* * *

Arthur really wasn’t comfortable with this. He wasn’t actually sure why he’d talked Merlin into effectively stealing the car, but he supposed the chaos that had been the Selfridges menswear floor had something to do with his less than perfect decision-making. He was frustrated, and equally wanted to strangle Merlin and pull him to his chest and keep him there for the foreseeable future.

He felt Merlin would benefit from sharing in his irritation.

“ _How_  did you manage to drive all the way to Balmoral and not kill yourself?” Arthur rechecked his seatbelt as the car jerked forward again.

Merlin scowled and continued to glare at the cars in front of him. “I drove you to bloody London when you nearly killed us last year.”

Arthur twitched in annoyance. He’d forgotten about that. “Yes…well…”

“Why don’t you drive then?”

“Because I’m the prince.”  _Oh well done, Arthur. Classic move there._

“Arthur,” Merlin was speaking through gritted teeth, his death grip on the steering wheel not loosening in the slightest, “if you want to yell at me, can you just get it over with? Because really, I’m not in the fucking mood.”

“You’re not in the mood?” Arthur barked, folding his arms, a tiny thrill running through him now that he was finally in reach of an outlet for the maelstrom of emotions that had been warring to break out since Elyan had hurried them outside and into the car. “Oh…I suppose I can see how nearly killing a room full of people might make you a bit pissed off.”

“Jesus  _Christ_ , Arthur!” Merlin yelled and Arthur was sure they were about to plough into the back of the school minibus in front. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You were being shot at.  _Shot_  at. Again! Nobody else was doing anything and it-“

“They were waiting until it was safe to move!” Arthur shouted. Realising that perhaps yelling like a fishwife in a traffic jam when you were the Prince of Wales was not the most sensible thing to do he turned up the collar of the coat Elyan had shoved at him as they left through the back door. “Merlin, they are trained to deal with situations like that.  _You_  are not!”

“Well they weren’t  _dealing_  with it, were they?” Merlin was practically shrieking now, his face getting redder by the second. “If there’d been much more waiting you could be dead, Arthur. You could be fucking  _dead_!”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply.

“No!” Merlin cut him off fiercely, viciously swiping at th e steering wheel as they turned left at a set of traffic lights. “You were in danger and I had to do something about it. You keep telling me you won’t let anyone hurt me, why do you have to be such a bloody prat about it when I do the same for you? Fuck, Arthur, do you know how many times I’ve watched you die?”

Arthur felt as if he’d been punched. Merlin didn’t look as if he was faring much better.

“I’m not doing it again.”

Merlin’s voice was so quiet that Arthur thought he’d imagined it, until Merlin turned to face him for the first time since they got in the car and the words were written clearly on his face.  _I’m not doing it **again**._

Merlin stopped the car just before they reached the security gate at Kensington Palace Gardens

“What are you doing?” Arthur snapped as Mer lin unclipped his seatbelt.

Merlin didn’t say anything. He reached for the door handle and was half way out of the car before Arthur had time to react.

“Merlin!”

Merlin stilled for a moment, before dropping back down into the car and turning to Arthur.

Arthur wasn’t entirely comfortable about the expression on Merlin’s face. It was awfully like the look of barely-disguised loathing that had graced Merlin’s features the first time they’d met.

“If you wanted to shout from the rooftops that you have magic then I would stand beside you as you did so.” Merlin’s voice was eerily calm as he spoke. “How did the rest of it go, Arthur?  _Oh_ , I remember… I never want you to be afraid of who you are.”

The slight inflection of derision creeping into the final few words nettled Arthur more than the fact that they were his own words being thrown back at him. Words he had spent days searching for, and was completely sure he meant when he wrote them.

Merlin’s lips twisted into an imitation of a smile. “You’re very good at making people believe in your words and actions, Arthur.” He paused and Arthur’s whole body tensed. “But it doesn’t really mean much if you don’t believe them yourself.”

Arthur watched silently as Merlin got out of the car and walked away. He didn’t even bother to shut the door behind him, simply bowed his head against the cold wind and curled in on himself as he disappeared around the corner just as a guard warily approach the car.

Two thoughts fought for dominance as Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_Christ, he’s still wearing those jeans_

and

_I’m a complete fucking idiot._

In the end it was the latter that won.

 

**ooOOoo**

Morgana clearly agreed on the idiot front. She was pressing two fingers of each hand against her temples when Arthur finally looked up at his sister.

“Were you dropped on your head as a child?” Morgana asked coolly after another moment of silence stretched between them.

Arthur’s nose scrunched up in confusion.

“Or have you given up common sense as part of a New Year’s resolution?” Morgana narrowed her eyes as she surveyed her brother. “Because really they’re the only two explanations I can come up with for how much of a colossal fuckwit you are.”

Arthur’s own eyes widened in response. “Morgana it’s n-“

“Think carefully before you say anything, because I really don’t want to hear your excuses,” Morgana shook her head. “Why are you so afraid to trust Merlin when he’ s saved your life countless times?”

“It’s not  _Merlin_  I don-“

“Oh…” Morgana laughed scornfully, “yes, you trust Merlin  _completely_  don’t you? It’s just his magic that you’ve  _still_  got a problem with!”

Arthur pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed loudly. “Morgana, look I j-“

“Arthur!”

The vehemence in Morgana’s snap was so surprising Arthur found himself shifting slightly backwards on the chair as his eyes flew open. A small flare of shame was making itself known in the back of his mind as he watched his sister shake her head at him. He dropped his chin to his chest like a chastised child.

“I have made so many excuses for you, Arthur.” Morgana was speaking at a normal volume, but there was an edge to her voice that Arthur rar ely heard her employ. “So many excuses for your behaviour towards other people when we were growing up, for the way you acted towards Merlin when you first met – did you know that I told him to be careful when it came to you?”

“You did  _what_?” Arthur's head snapped up.

Morgana nodded grimly. “Back in Sandringham.” She huffed a humourless laugh. “And did you know I emailed him when we were in Africa that summer? I was the one who told him to call you.”

Arthur swallowed heavily, trying to coax some of the shame to spark into resentment. But his voice wasn’t as steady as he’d hoped when he eventually replied. “You can’t leave anything alone can you, Morgana? You always have to  _meddle_.”

“Meddle?” Morgana’s indignant screech was probably heard on the other side of Hyde Park. “I should have told that poor boy to ru n. Run as far away as possible from you while he still had the chance.”

“Morga-“

“Do you  _realise_  how difficult it must have been for him to keep his magic secret?” Morgana threw her hands up in frustration.

Arthur knew he was unlikely to get a word in edgeways any time soon. He also (annoyingly) knew she was right.

Morgana ploughed on. “To keep it secret from  _you_? And eventually you tell him,  _oh don’t worry, Merlin, I’m fine about your magic_ , when what you actually meant was  _oh don’t worry, Merlin, I’ll tell you I’m fine about your magic, but in reality I’m just going to_   _carry on being a massive twatface about everything_!”

“Mor-“

“You can’t tell someone you’d give up everything for him and then throw all of his trust back in his face!” Morgana’s eyes were wild as she pushed herself out of her armchair.

“Morgana!” Arthur bellowed, hurling himself out of his own chair as he spoke.

Morgana stilled, blinking twice in surprise at her brother’s sudden shift from quietly frustrated to incensed.

“Jesus, Morgana, just shut up for a second!” Arthur clutched his hair, tugging on the strands as he felt his heart racing.

Morgana scowled, but eventually deigned to retake her seat in their mother’s armchair.

“Do you realise how dangerous it is for him to be anywhere near me? Our father and that…that  _Council_ , are all out for blood, Morgana. Merlin knows that! And yet he just casually casts a spell in front of witnesses!” Arthur recognised the untruth he’d allowed to slip out immediately after he’d said it. Merlin hadn’t  _casua lly_  cast anything – he’d asked Arthur’s permission, asked Arthur if he trusted him.

“Nobody saw anything, Arthur,” Morgana replied, folding her arms. “He’s not reckless enough to use magic in public unless he feels he needs to. Which generally means your sorry arse is in danger.”

Arthur blew out a frustrated breath and sank back into his chair. “It’s not about not trusting him, Morgana.”

“Then what is it, Arthur?” she snapped. “Because that’s exactly how it looks to me.”

“Merlin won’t leave,” Arthur replied quietly. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“What?” Morgana’s lips twisted once more into a sneer. “God, Arthur I never thought you were completely heartless, I m-“

“No,” Arthur didn’t raise his voice as he shook his head. “That’s not wh at I mean. It’s not Merlin’s magic I’m afraid of. I’m terrified that someone will find out about it and try to use it against him. Morgana, there’s a  _lot_ going on right now that I haven’t told you about. And I swear, I  _will_  tell you, but just understand that I think Merlin is in far more danger than he realises.”

Morgana’s glower dissipated instantly. “What do you mean,  _far more danger than he realises_? Arthur, what’s going on?”

Arthur looked at his sister, taking in the genuine concern that had immediately softened her features when he’d mentioned Merlin was in danger. Morgana had been fiercely loyal to Merlin since the very beginning, but it was only recently that Arthur had started to realise that everyone who met Merlin ended up being more than a little bit mad for him.

Knowing Morgana she’d probably already planned the wed-

_Fuck, Pendragon. Now is **not**  the time for a detour to the Land of Ridiculous Thoughts._

“It’s complicated,” Arthur sighed. “Very,  _very_  complicated.”

“I’m all ears,” Morgana reclined slightly and waited for him to speak.

* * *

Merlin pushed open the door to the house on Cambridge Place. He hadn’t quite reached the stage where he could think of it as ‘his’ house, in fact he wasn’t sure he ever  _would_  reach that stage.

“Merlin?” Maggie’s voice called out from the kitchen.

“Hi, Maggie,” he called back, relieved to hear a friendly voice.

“I only go-“ Maggie cut herself off as she appeared from behind the kitchen door at the other end of the hallway. “Have you been outside dressed like  _that_?”

Merlin hunched in on himself as Maggie started marching towards him. “No,” he eventually said. Which was a rather stupid thing to say considering it was clear that the answer was actually  _yes_.

“Short sleeves on a day like today?” Maggie grabbed at his arms, her eyes widenin g as she felt the chill on his skin. “You, in to the kitchen. Now.” She stared pointedly at the kitchen until Merlin shot her a weak smile and did as she asked.

 _Please don’t mention the jeans,_ Merlin thought desperately as he held the door open for Maggie. He’d been convinced that they were obscenely skinny when Morgana had chucked them at him earlier and he knew he would have had to steel himself before wearing them in public. He had intended to inadvertently  _forget_  to take them out of the changing room, but then Arthur had arrived and everything had gone to hell….and Merlin had actually ended up  _stealing_  a seven hundred pound pair of jeans. By accident, obviously, but still…Then he’d ended up wandering around Kensington for nearly two hours just in case Arthur had turned up at the house. Merlin thought it was safest to wait until the urge to punch the prince in the nose had passed until he thought abou t seeing him.

Maggie didn’t mention the jeans. Instead she (rather forcefully) placed a French press filled with delicious-smelling coffee and a large mug in front of him on the table. When Merlin sat down, Maggie managed to simultaneously drape a blanket over his shoulders and slide a plate with a large slice of cake on it in front of him.

Merlin was starting to think Maggie had magic herself.

“Now,” Maggie said as she switched off the kettle and settled herself down with a cup of tea, “why is the lovely Owain skulking around with a brace on his arm?”

Merlin focused on not choking on the mouthful of carrot cake he’d just taken. “Um…”he said when he finally swallowed, “there was an… _incident.”_

“Another one?” Maggie asked, arching her eyebrows.

Merlin nodded de spondently, running his finger around the rim of the mug. “Another one.”

“And Arthur's dealing with this incident is he?”

“I haven’t a bloody clue what Arth-“ Merlin cut himself as he realised what he’d just said. “I’m really sorry, Maggie. I meant…oh…” He fought the urge to just lie his head on the table and die of shame, and instead shovelled another forkful of cake into his mouth.

Maggie laughed. “He’s a stubborn one,” she said fondly. “Always has been. He’d argue black was white if you gave him the chance, even when he was just a wee boy.”

Merlin was sure that Maggie didn’t quite understand the implications of Arthur’s pigheadedness this time around, but he appreciated the confirmation that Arthur had always been a complete tit.

The door opened, startling both occupants of the kitchen ta ble. Owain ducked his head slightly sheepishly when he entered. “Sorry.”

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, his eyes drifting to the splint covering the guard’s wrist and lower arm.

Owain smiled slightly. “Just a bad sprain. Nothing to worry about.”

Merlin didn’t feel any less guilty. “And Leon?”

Owain laughed. “He hasn’t even got concussion. It’s just giving the rest of free reign to tease him about his thick head for the next few weeks.

Merlin’s smile was weak, but genuine.

“Although,” Owain continued, frowning slightly, “I should warn you that Leon and Elyan are both concocting suitable punishments for Arthur. They weren’t thrilled about the fact he managed to steal a car.”

Merlin opened his mouth to protest but Owain cut him off.

“Merlin, I actually need to debrief you about the situation. Do you mind…?” He trailed off, pointedly ducking his head towards the hallway.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Merlin said, rising to his feet.

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” Owain said, exiting the room.

“I’ll keep the coffee warm, dear,” Maggie smiled kindly as Merlin headed for the door. “And I might even find another slice of that cake.”

Merlin grinned at her before heading after Owain.

The hallway was empty. Merlin frowned. “Owain?”

“Sorry!” Owain called back, his head popping out from the doorway of the study. “I thought in here made sense. It saves poor Maggie from overhearing too much.”

Merlin nodded, although he wasn’t entirely sure that what Owain had said to him made much sense. Maggie was trustworthy. Arthur trusted her  _completely_ , and Merlin knew just how carefully Arthur handed out that trust. And no, he was  _not_ dwelling on that right now.

“This won’t take long,” Owain said as he closed the door behind Merlin.

Merlin headed over to the desk to take a seat. “That’s alright, I-“ Merlin’s words disappeared into the ether when he looked up and found Owain pointing a gun at him.

“Sorry about this, Merlin,” Owain said. He didn’t look sorry at all, in fact there was a tiny smile hitching up the corners of his lips as he spoke.

“What are you doing?” Merlin scrabbled against the chair uselessly. The gun was wavering slightly in Owain’s left hand, but Merlin was sure that the guard had been trained well enough to use his weaker hand if the need arose.

Owain responded only with the widening of his smile.

Merlin’s eyes darted around the study _. Paper, useless. Desk lamp, too awkward an angle. Ah...globe. That could work._ “ **Fleoge!** ”

The heavy antique globe arced gracefully through the air from the top of the bureau, striking the side of Owain’s head with a sickening thud. The gun went off anyway, but thankfully Owain’s aim had been ruined by taking the world to the skull.

Merlin slithered off the chair, completely boneless, scant seconds after Owain crumpled to the floor.

Maggie burst into the room almost instantly. Her face was ashen as she surveyed the room, her gaze eventually falling on Merlin’s bewildered expression.

“Maggie,” Merlin said softly from the floor. “I think you should call Arthur.”

* * *

“Where is he?” Arthur spat, shouldering his way past a handful of guards and a dazed-looking Leon. Between Morgana’s strangely calm acceptance of the idea of past lives and the waver of Maggie’s voice when she’d called him twenty minutes earlier Arthur’s head was practically spinning.

“The doctor’s just having a look at his head,” Leon explained quietly as he hurried up to the prince. “He was a bit dizzy when he arrived and they just want to make sure. He’ll be out in a few minutes. Arthur, just come and sit down.”

Arthur swiped a hand over his face, keeping it over his mouth as he nodded silently. He felt Morgana loop her arm through his as they followed Leon to the family apartment.

“Leon?” Morgana asked softly as she pushed Arthur onto the sofa. “Would you get Arthur a brandy, please?”

L eon must have agreed because Arthur found a bulbous glass being forced into his hand a few moments later. He took a sip, the liquid burning his throat slightly as he swallowed.

Jesus, it wasn’t even three o’clock yet.

“Why?” Arthur asked, looking down at his shoes. “Why would Owain do something like this?”

“I don’t know,” Leon replied when Arthur looked up. He looked as tired as he sounded, and Arthur noted that there was still a hint of blood matted into Leon’s hair from when he’s been knocked out earlier.

“Was it Owain who…”Morgana trailed off and Arthur reached out to grasp her hand.

Leon sighed. “I strongly suspect that we’ll discover it was Owain’s gun that was fired in Selfridges.”

Leon didn’t look tired, Arthur realised, he looked  _betrayed_.

“There must be some explanation for all of this,” Arthur knew he didn’t sound particularly convincing, but he couldn’t just accept that Owain, who had shown his loyalty time and time again, would do something like this.

“Perhaps,” Leon replied. “But we won’t know anything until he’s in a fit state to talk.”

Arthur winced. “Maggie mentioned something about a globe.”

Leon nodded grimly. “He was still out cold last time I checked. It looks like Merlin used magic, not that that will be the official story to anyone outside of this room.”

Arthur noticed belatedly that the hand holding the brandy glass was trembling slightly. He raised it to his lips and took another gulp.

“I’ll be honest, Arthur,” Leon said after a few moments of silence, “Owain’s a crack shot. Merlin’s lucky to b e alive.”

Arthur tugged his hand from Morgana’s so he could wrap it around the glass. He pressed his fingers into the sharp grooves of the cut crystal, willing the slight pain to take away the macabre images his traitorous mind was supplying him with.

The door opened.

Arthur slammed the brandy glass on the table and wobbled to his feet as Merlin padded into the room.

“Leon!” Morgana’s voice was quiet, but she might as well have yelled directly into Arthur’s ear for the fright it gave him. “A word, please?”

Arthur was dimly aware that Morgana was leaving the room, Leon following close behind her. His sister reached out her hand to brush her fingers along Merlin’s arm before she closed the door leaving the two boys alone.

Arthur’s hand was back in front of his mouth before he could stop himself. For a fleeting moment he considered whether it was his body’s way of trying to get him to avoid saying something stupid.

Merlin, eyes trained on his shoes, was shuffling one foot against the carpet, biting his lip as he did so.

Arthur’s breath hitched quietly, but it was as loud as a thunderclap in the silence of the room. Merlin’s eyes shot up at the sound, his gaze locking with the prince’s immediately.

Arthur didn’t know how he managed to coordinate his limbs correctly, but in only a few seconds he had one hand clamped tightly around Merlin’s waist and the other tangled in his hair.

It was a few seconds after that when Arthur realised that he was clinging onto Merlin…Merlin who was standing stiffly, arms by his side.

Arthur tried to pull back; he wanted to explain, to apologise, to request that Merlin neve r listen to him ever again if he was throwing a tantrum. In the end he just held on tighter, pressing his face against Merlin’s neck as his hot breath escaped his lips in gasps.

Slowly and hesitantly Arthur felt Merlin relax slightly into his embrace. He allowed himself one sigh of relief when he felt slightly cool fingers settle against the nape of his neck.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s skin, his nose nudging at the sensitive patch below Merlin’s left ear. “When Maggie called…I…”

Merlin took pity on him then, moving both hands to Arthur’s cheeks and pulling back slightly so they were eye-to-eye. Arthur was horrified to feel a burn behind his eyelids every time he blinked, and knew it wouldn’t take much more for his lashes to concede their tenuous hold.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur’s voice was now approaching s omething even less than a whisper, cracked as it was around the edges. “I’m a complete prat and I shouldn’t have treated you like I did earlier. Morgana’s right, I’m a total fuckwit.”

To Arthur’s surprise, and immediate delight, Merlin laughed. One of those laughs that was a short exhalation of surprise before it became a proper sound of amusement. It was heart-wrenchingly Merlin and Arthur had never felt more grateful for any sound in his life.

“She might be right about that,” Merlin replied.

“I don’t hate your magic,” Arthur forced the words out before his throat seized up completely. “I just can’t bear the thought of you risking your secret for my sake.”

“Hey, now,” Merlin smiled softly, “I think we’ve already discussed the fact that we’re two stubborn idiots who are never going to agree on who should be saving who.”

Arthur smiled tentatively at that. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to explain myself to you.”

“I know,” Merlin nodded, “I expect you to. But perhaps not  _right_  this second.”

Arthur closed his eyes for a long moment. “I’m an idiot, Merlin.”

“Yes,” Merlin breathed. “You’re definitely an idiot.”

“I…” Arthur blew a breath through his lips. “I love you though.”

A slow smile spread back onto Merlin’s face. “Well-“

The door swung open, startling them both. Instead of pushing him away, Arthur instinctively pulled Merlin closer to him.

It was Leon. “Arthur, Merlin. You both need to come with me.”

Arthur felt the blood rush from his face at the concern in Leon’s tone. “Why? What’s happened?”

“It’s Owain,” Leon nodded towards the door. “They think they know what’s wrong with him.”

“Is it…” Merlin started to ask quietly, trailing off before he could finish the thought.

Leon once again showed his aptitude for hearing the unsaid as he nodded once more. “Yes. It’s magic.”


	13. Chapter 13

Merlin couldn’t quite stop the hiss of breath he pushed through his gritted teeth when he saw Owain. Arthur nudged him in the side, the prince incorrectly assuming that Merlin was scared in some way. Merlin shook his head slightly and made a vague gesture with the hand still by his side.

“His face,” Merlin whispered, flinching as he took in the mottled purple bruising that now marred Owain’s left cheekbone, temple and jaw. He didn’t regret stopping Owain from killing him (obviously), but he did regret causing harm to someone he really had looked to as a friend, mitigating circumstances or not.

“Not your fault,” Arthur replied quickly.

Merlin remained silent, keeping hold of Morgana’s hand, as Leon blocked their path to the bed Owain was shackled to. He’d never seen so many members of the Security Team in one room before; glancing around he noticed that the man who’d accosted him outside Claridge’s days earlier was nowhere to be seen…nor was Agravaine. It didn’t escape Merlin’s notice that members of Uther’s Council were also conspicuously absent from this gathering.

“Leon,” Arthur nodded and it was clear that this was Leon’s cue to explain.

Leon looked directly at Merlin before he began. “Doctor Ashburn has concluded that although the injuries to Owain look severe, they are in fact superficial for the most part.”

Merlin ducked his head gratefully at the reassurance.

“However,” Leon listed to the right a little and Merlin could see that the man was still suffering from the effects of being knocked out, “he also noticed a strange…well…” Leon trailed off, scratching his head as he shrugged.

“What is it?” Arthur asked. Merlin could sense Arthur’s increasing frustration at not understanding what was going on. “Leon?”

Leon turned slightly and picked up a large glass jar from a nearby table. “This.”

Merlin squinted, leaning forward, almost comically in synchronicity with the Pendragon siblings either side of him. The three of them reared backwards at almost the same moment as well.

The jar contained what looked to be a small, black snake. “That was…” Merlin’s voice failed him so he pointed at Owain.

“In the back of his neck,” Leon’s expression was one of barely-contained horror as he placed the jar back down. “Doctor Ashburn removed it immediately. Apparently he’s seen this before, although not for many years.”

At first Merlin thought he was imagining it; the sound was so soft. Just a quiet litany ‘ _no, no, no’_  that was really no more than an exhalation. But then the fingernails pressing into the fleshy part of his palm acted as a catalyst to his sluggish brain and he realised that this whispered denial was coming from Morgana.

Merlin turned his head immediately, looking down slightly to see Morgana tucking her head onto her chest as if trying to curl in on herself.

“Morgana!” Arthur planted himself in front of his sister, dropping his hands on to her shoulders as he tried to catch her eye. “Morgana, what’s wrong?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Morgana whispered so quietly that Merlin was straining to hear her. “I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Arthur?” Leon asked worriedly, taking an abortive step towards Morgana.

Morgana was clinging to Merlin’s hand with both of hers now, even though she was still had her eyes clamped shut.

“I’ll take her, Merlin said to Arthur, waiting for the prince to look at him. “Stay here and find out what happened to Owain.”

Arthur looked ready to argue.

“Arthur,” Merlin said meaningfully. “I’ll look after her.”

Arthur only nodded, allowing Merlin to spin a slightly more co-operative Morgana around and led her out of the room.

“What’s going on?” Merlin heard Leon ask behind him.

Only silence greeted him before the door clicked shut.

“Morgana,” Merlin whispered to the stumbling princess beside him. “Morgana, we’re going to go and sit down, okay?”

Morgana was still muttering to herself as she allowed herself to be manhandled down the corridor and staircase towards the family rooms. A few people were milling in the corridor, exchanging paperwork and Merlin was pleased to see a familiar face.

“Mordred!” Merlin shouted, far too loudly in his relief at seeing someone he knew.

Mordred’s head snapped up at Merlin’s shout, his eyes dropping in concern to the shivering bundle that Morgana had transformed into. “Merlin? What’s wrong? Should I get the doctor?”

“No,” Merlin shook his head vehemently as he and Morgana stepped off the last stair. “No, thank you. I’m sorry to ask, as I know it’s not your job-“

“Anything,” Mordred replied earnestly. “What do you need?”

“Could you get Morgana a cup of really,  _really_  sweet tea?” Merlin asked, pushing Morgana slightly so they were moving again. “And could you find Maggie Irving for me? She came in with me earlier.”

“Of course,” Mordred nodded without hesitation, hurrying away without another word.

“Almost there,” Merlin encouraged quietly, tightening his grip around Morgana’s waist as he opened the door to the apartment and steered her down the short entrance hallway and into an armchair.

He glanced at the fireplace, the flames roaring up from nothing in less than a second. He turned quickly and dropped to his knees in front of Morgana, grumbling slightly at the pull of denim across his calves as he did so. Stupid, bloody jeans were  _not_  suitable for a day like today.

Morgana had fallen silent, but the fists curled at her sides, and the look of torment creasing her features suggested she was far from calm. Merlin raised both of his hands and pushed the princess’ hair back from her face, tucking the strands behind her ears.

“Hey,” Merlin said quietly, ducking his head so he could catch Morgana’s eye. “Morgana, what’s happened?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Morgana murmured. “Merlin, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Not to Arthur.”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed. Morgana was talking to him, yes, but her eyes were unfocused; seeing past the boy in front of her to something else.  _Somewhere_  else.

And suddenly it was as if someone had flicked a switch, lighting the path towards an understanding that Merlin would rather not see.

Morgana had remembered something. Merlin was sure of that.

A crackle of energy, nothing more than a momentary burst, flared between them and their eyes locked for the first time since entering the room.

Morgana’s eyes widened in panic. “Emrys.”

The princess’ whisper hit Merlin like a tangible force. He toppled backwards, through surprise of underlying dread he wasn’t sure, but his wrists took the weight of the fall, bending under the sudden pressure. Merlin scrabbled uselessly for a second as he tried to get back onto his knees to face Morgana, who for her part was pressed back into the armchair, fingers gripping the arms so tightly her skin was alabaster pale.

When her eyes caught his again they both inhaled sharply.

Merlin’s wrists throbbed slightly, but not from bearing his weight a moment ago. Instead a memory of bound hands, straining his leg muscles to take the weight from his arms, flitted through his mind. The air around him was humid, the sickly-sweet stench of decay and incense burning his nostrils. He heard Morgana - only a shadow of the Morgana he knew now,  _loved_  now – dangerous yet heartbreakingly ethereal as she spoke quietly “ _Don't think I don't understand loyalty just because I have no one left to be loyal to.”_

But the young woman in front of him didn’t utter a sound. The voice were Morgana’s, but from a time long since lost to history.

“Morgana?” Merlin’s voice cracked on the second syllable.

“I wanted him dead,” Morgana whispered, her eyes once more glazing slightly. “I wanted you both dead. But I didn’t understand…I didn’t know who you were…”

A soft knock at the door startled Merlin enough that he briefly clutched at his chest as he hauled himself to his feet. His legs were shaking as he crossed the room and opened the door.

“I’ve brought tea,” Mordred said quietly, peering over Merlin’s shoulder to see better, but Merlin held the door flush to his back, blocking Morgana from sight. “For both of you.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said gratefully as he took the small tray from Mordred.

“Maggie will be here shortly.” Mordred nodded, almost in deference. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “Thank you, Mordred.” Merlin hoped that his voice wasn’t as weak as it sounded to his own ears. He plastered the best smile he could muster on his lips.

Mordred gave a quick smile, nothing more than a quirk of his lips before leaving Merlin once more.

Merlin sighed loudly as he stepped back into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. Careful not to spill the tea he walked as steadily as he could to where Morgana was sitting; she was staring at him with an unbearably desolate look in her eyes.

“Here,” Merlin said quietly, trying to feign as much conviction as possible, “this will help. I promise.”

Morgana, to Merlin’s immediate relief, took the tea, She didn’t drink from the cup; instead she wrapped her hands around the porcelain, even though Merlin could tell from his own mug that it was far too hot to hold in such a manner.

Merlin, abandoning the idea of trying to sit cross-legged on the floor as his limbs refused to bend properly within their denim prison, momentarily placed his mug on the coffee table to pull the other armchair close enough to Morgana that their knees were practically touching.

“Arthur told me.” Morgana’s words came as a surprise after long moments of strained silence.

“Told you what?” Merlin asked carefully, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.

Morgana seemed to steel herself, pushing her chin up in a show of confidence. “About the book,” she said, her voice steadier than it had been. “About the past.”

Merlin nodded. Arthur hadn’t promised to withhold everything from his sister, but Merlin was still slightly stung that he had chosen to divulge everything without Merlin being there too; not out of misplaced annoyance, but borne from an inkling that Morgana’s reaction to the past might be stronger because of her magic. But he hadn’t expected this; hadn’t expected the bleak glances and crawling sense of betrayal and guilt inching its way up his spine with every passing second.

“He said he didn’t know how I fit in,” Morgana’s voice had dropped in volume, but defiance shone from her posture. “But now I do.”

Morgana’s lower lip was trembling slightly and part of Merlin wanted to throw his arms around her the way she had him so many times, but something held him back.

“Do you remember, Merlin?” And it was now that Morgana’s voice broke slightly. “Do you remember what I did to you? What I wanted you to do to Arthur?”

Oh, Merlin knew. He became more certain of his thoughts, of this memory, with every passing second. Morgana had conjured a creature – a creature bearing the same snakelike heads as the one they had both just witnessed upstairs – and Merlin had been hers to control. But this wasn’t  _Morgana_ , it couldn’t be. “It wasn’t  _you_ ,” Merlin said as forcefully as he could manage. “No matter what you see, or what you remember, you have to believe that you are not the same person Morgana.”

“But I can see it,” Morgana was staring into the cup in her hands as though it held the secrets of the universe. “You were there, and so close to Arthur. Close enough to be the greatest weapon of all.”

“Morgana, stop it!” Merlin aimed for firm, but Morgana was hunching back in on herself and his words were coloured with fear for the princess.

“I hated him,” Morgana’s voice was barely a sigh. “I hated you  _all_ …so much.”

“Morgana, enough!” Merlin managed to snap. He put his cup on the table, ignoring the hot liquid that sloshed over onto his hands at his carelessness when he wrenched Morgana’s tea from her grasp. He seized Morgana’s fingers between his own and tugged on her arms until she looked up at him.

The princess’ eyes were wide and distracted.

“Morgana!”

Morgana twitched, blinking furiously as she seemed to remember herself and her surroundings. “Merlin?” she asked, far too hesitantly for someone who’d just been speaking to the object of her question.

Merlin nodded. “Morgana, are you alright?” He loosened the grip on her hands and ran his fingers gently along her wrists. “Hey,” he said softly, “it’s okay.”

Morgana’s face crumpled, in fact her whole body crumpled, and she dropped forward into Merlin’s waiting arms. Her sobs were completely silent, but Merlin could feel the shivers wracking her body as he rubbed his hands soothingly across her back.

“It wasn’t you,” Merlin whispered into her hair, over and over again. A small voice in his mind was screaming in horror at the proximity of the woman who had seemingly sought Arthur’s death, but he stamped it out quickly; this girl in his arms was no more a ruthless murderer than she was an ordinary young woman. Morgana Pendragon of the past may have turned on those who knew her, but Morgana Pendragon,  _wonderful_  Morgana Pendragon of right now was as fiercely loyal as anyone Merlin could ever hope to meet.

“Do you remember it?” Morgana asked quietly after long moments has passed, Merlin all the while praying that Maggie would take her time. “Do you remember what happened with the Fomorroh?”

“The what?” Merlin asked as Morgana pulled back so they could see each other. “Is that the name of that…creature?”

Morgana nodded.

“No,” Merlin shook his head slowly. “I don’t remember much at all.”

Morgana swallowed heavily. “There was a man – an old sorcerer – who was known to her as Emrys.” Morgana stared at Merlin, and it hadn’t been lost on him that she had referred to ‘her’ instead of ‘me’. “He was…you. I think. But nobody knew.”

Merlin nodded again. He had seen a drawing of an old sorcerer in Gwen’s book. He’d neglected to share that illustration with Arthur up to this stage due to the slew of bearded wizard jokes he knew would inevitably follow.

“He was supposed to kill me,” Morgana whispered. “ _Her_.”

The inexplicable shame and guilt that had been clawing at Merlin since Morgana had revealed her knowledge of the past flared once more and he had to force himself to remain still. The compulsion to throw himself from the chair and claw at his own skin was almost overwhelming.

“But he didn’t,” Morgana added. “I don’t know why, but he didn’t.”

“Morgana,” Merlin kept his voice as level as possible as he tactically changed the subject as far as was feasible. “Do you know if Owain is alright now?”

Morgana bit her lip before shaking her head. “It’ll come back.” She took a deep breath and continued more confidently, “I know what you have to do to get rid of it.”

Morgana was looking at him with the smallest flicker of hopefulness in her eyes.

“Please, Merlin,” she said quietly, taking his hands once more. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Merlin answered immediately, without a hint of hesitation. It was true, he realised. Shades of the past could not be trusted, but the tearful girl in front of him was worth every ounce of trust Merlin had. He knew that down to his very soul.

* * *

“You told her.”

Arthur pursed his lips at the hint of accusation in Merlin’s tone. He turned slowly, running a hand along his jaw as he thought of what to say. It’s not as if he could lie. “Told who what?”  _Ah yes, deflection would always (never) work._

Merlin just looked at him from, eyebrows raised fractionally above their normal resting place. Even from a good twelve feet away, Arthur could feel the edge of disapproval radiating from Merlin. Leon opened the door next to where Merlin was standing and made to follow Arthur down the hallway, pausing when he realised he’d ended up in the middle of a conversation.

Arthur dropped his shoulders. “Yes, fine, I told her.” He was about to ask about Morgana, but then his eyes narrowed as he watched Merlin’s gaze drop to the carpet.

Leon, proving once more what a bloody traitor he was, tried to escape by heading back into the room Owain was still contained in. The prince’s eyes narrowed further when Merlin’s hand snagged Leon’s jacket at lightning speed. Merlin whispered something too quietly for Arthur to hear. Leon jerked back in surprise and Merlin nodded vehemently.

Arthur began striding towards the two men, but Leon was back inside the holding room before the prince was even half way there. Arthur felt his eyes widen in surprise when the distinct clunk of the heavy bolts on the other side of the door sounded.

“What the fuck?” Arthur asked, trying the handle only to find, as expected, that he couldn’t get in. He looked at Merlin, who was leaning against the wallpaper with a very… _odd_  look on his face. Arthur fought the urge to flee in terror of whatever new surprise was about to be unveiled. “What’s going on?”

“Arthur…” Merlin trailed off.

It was the moment that Merlin’s  _odd_  look morphed into obvious despair that the necessity to run was quashed completely. Arthur could feel his own expression harden into something edged with trepidation. “What?”

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” Merlin asked, his eyes still on the ground until the very last moment.

“We’ll go to the apart-“

“No!” Merlin shook his head vehemently. “No, Maggie is looking after Morgana.”

“Is she alright?” Arthur asked.

Merlin looked momentarily unsure. “Yes,” he said eventually. “She will be, at least.”

“I want to see her,” Arthur stated firmly. “Anything else can wait.”

Merlin’s fingers this time caught Arthur’s right cuff. “Not yet,” Merlin shook his head slowly. “Trust me on this.”

Arthur wanted to argue. He wanted to wrench himself out of Merlin’s grip and see Morgana. But this was Merlin…one of the few people he truly did trust implicitly. “What’s happened? Why has Leon locked the door? What did you say to him?”

“Leon’s dealing with the Fo-“ Merlin cut himself off, still holding Arthur’s sleeve. “Leon’s dealing with the  _creature_.”

“It’s already been dealt with,” Arthur scrunched up his face in confusion.

Merlin shook his head again, and Arthur started to wonder if it had become some kind of default setting. “No,” Merlin said. “It’s been  _sort of_  dealt with. The actual, proper,  _proper_  dealing with it won’t happen until later.”

“What?” Arthur scoffed in disbelief. “What are you on about?”

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” Merlin repeated his earlier question, his eyes drifting to the couple of Clarence House staff walking towards them.

“Follow me,” Arthur said as Merlin let go of his arm.

Merlin followed in silence for a couple of minutes as Arthur led him up a number of staircases, twisting and turning through the maze of the building in the way only a person who has spent an inordinate amount of time there would be able to do so.

“I take it you’re not bringing good news,” Arthur said as he viciously stabbed a twelve digit code into a keypad beside a nondescript door.

“Not brilliant,” Merlin sighed. “No.”


	14. Chapter 14

Arthur gestured for Merlin to lead into the room. He wasn’t expecting to walk straight into Merlin’s back when he stopped short just inside the doorframe so stumbled slightly when he did. “Jesus, Merlin,” Arthur rolled his eyes, pushing him out of the way, “how do you not spend most of your time flat on your face?”

Merlin shot Arthur a quick glare and straightened his shoulders before deciding to perch on a very small wooden chair by the tiny window. The single pane of glass was the only source of light in the room and the fading afternoon light only just caught the dust motes flitting through the air after years of lying dormant.

Arthur breathed in, immediately regretting the action when he felt neglected air catching on the back of his throat. He coughed, blinking away the moisture in his eyes as he closed the door and leaned back against it. “Merlin Emrys actually dwarfing a piece of furniture,” he coughed out eventually. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Merlin was clearly holding back a retort as his eyes roamed around the room; a permanent museum exhibit of Arthur and Morgana’s childhood. Three large toy chests lined the wall opposite the door; two were closed, but the lid of the final one was still hinged where it had been thrown open in abandon well over a decade ago.

In the open chest Arthur could see the chunky plastic spout of the yellow teapot Morgana had insisted was for making magical potions on a regular basis. He shivered slightly at the thought. He looked over to Merlin and found that the other boy’s gaze had landed on a half-finished game of snakes and ladders; two counters – one red (Arthur always insisted on red) and one blue – stood still, preserved as they were in that moment when they’d been ushered out of the room by Maggie on her final day with the family.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked quietly. There was nothing more than his name in the question, but Arthur could hear the myriad of inquiries that were flowing underneath.  _What exactly is this place? Why here? Of all the rooms in this place, why here? Why do you suddenly look as if the world’s ended?_

Arthur could hear the questions, but he didn’t want to answer them. Perhaps, because truthfully he  _couldn’t_  answer them. His feet had led him here without his permission and he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

“You were going to tell me about Morgana,” Arthur adopted the most confident voice he could manage. He hoped his eyes were conveying a different message:  _please don’t pry. Not yet._

Merlin nodded slowly. “Not to sound like I’m pre-empting an overdramatic reaction,” he smiled slightly, “but I think you might want to sit down for this.”

Arthur fought against the urge to simply square his shoulders and remaining looming over the room, but instinct berated him loudly until he crossed the room and dropped into the rocking chair Maggie had always sat in when she’d painted the afternoons with stories of daring princes and brave, clever princesses who could rescue themselves. He  _almost_  grinned at the sudden understanding he had for Maggie’s choice of tales, but the seriousness of Merlin’s expression warded him away from any display of cheer.

“I don’t care that you told Morgana about the past,” Merlin said, clearly choosing his words carefully.

“Good,” Arthur answered quickly, “because I told Leon as well.”

Merlin’s eyes widened fractionally before he closed them and nodded once. “Okay. I’ll start again. I’m slightly pissed off that you told Leon about everything, but I know why you did and I’m glad you can trust him.” He opened his eyes and looked at Arthur. “Morgana, though, is different.”

That annoying shiver crept up his spine once more and Arthur briefly considered switching the lights on. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t care that you told her,” Merlin repeated, “but I really wish you would have waited for me. You know Morgana has…magic, and there was always the chance that she would react badly to anything she remembered.”

Arthur frowned. “She took it quite well. Far better than I did.”

Merlin nodded again. “You have to remember that Morgana was probably experiencing something of the past in her dreams though, Arthur.”

 _Fuck_. He’d forgotten about her dreams. The pained look on her face when she’d returned from hospital, stating that all she could remember was the scent of death on the breeze. He gulped loudly.

“The creature in Owain’s neck is called a Fomorroh,” Merlin clasped his hands together on his knees as he leant forward. “It’s purpose is to give someone complete control over the mind of the victim, leaving them only with one thought and one intent.”

Arthur had felt his frown growing deeper as Merlin explained. “How do you know that? Leon never mentioned the name of the creature to me, and Ashburn didn’t properly explain the purpose.”

“Morgana told me.”

The words hung heavy in the air for a long moment. Arthur, out of sheer need to move, stood up and paced to the light switch. His hand hovered over the brass plate, his fingers never actually making contact with the switch. Merlin was swiping a hand over his face and it was obvious that he’d reached the part of the explanation he was worried about.

“Morgana…”Merlin trailed off, briefly pressing the side of a fist to his lips. “Morgana knows about the Fomorroh because she….no, the  _past_  Morgana, the one from  _before_ , used it on someone. Owain’s not actually free of it yet. We have to find the source, and Morgana thinks she knows how.” His words flew from his mouth in a rush and it took Arthur a few seconds to process what had been said.

“Used it on…” Arthur’s knowledge of the English language disappeared completely and his hand slipped as he listed towards the wall. The lights flared on above their heads, the immediate burst of incandescence harsh on their eyes.

“The book,” Merlin said eventually, when it became clear that Arthur couldn’t brace himself against the wall and speak at the same time. “We need to go to Gaius.”

“But Morgana…the creature is…” Arthur wanted to say it was  _evil_ , but he couldn’t. Not when that would mean-

“Morgana is not the same person, Arthur,” Merlin said as he stood slowly and began to pad hesitantly towards Arthur as if he were afraid that the prince would flee if spooked.

Arthur shook his head. What he was denying or referring to wasn’t clear even to himself. His eyes widened as Merlin placed a hand on the inner crook of his arm.

“Your sister would never betray you, Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice steadier than it had been since the start of the explanation. “Never.”

Arthur took a deep breath. When had Merlin become the one who was good at coping? When had Merlin become the one who was dealing with this better than anyone else?  _Perhaps he always has been ‘the one’,_ Arthur scoffed silently at himself.  _Perhaps you just weren’t paying enough attention. The same way you weren’t paying enough attention to Morgana. The same way-_

“Stop!” Merlin’s voice was harsh, and it snapped Arthur out of a spiral that was sure only to lead to self-loathing, “Whatever you’re thinking about. Just stop.”

Arthur nodded dumbly, before clearing his throat. “The person-“ he coughed to clear his throat.  _Voice not steady enough_. “The person she used that  _thing_  on…who was it?”

Merlin’s response was silence; A silence that spoke volumes when combined with the slight twitch of an eyebrow.

“Oh, Jesus bloody fuck, no.  _You_? Him, or whatever?” Arthur hissed as his hands went to his hair. “You’ve got to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

Merlin was  _not_  joking, and they both knew it.

“ _Why_?” Arthur was having more difficulty understanding this than anything that had happened so far. Whether this was because he was making some kind of breakthrough in his intolerance of the fantastical and unbelievable he wasn’t sure. It could just as easily be a sign that this really  _was_  the one point he was never going to be able to believe. “I don’t believe it. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to believe it, Arthur,” Merlin replied quietly. “In fact, you shouldn’t believe it – not if your thoughts tie any of it to Morgana. Whatever happened in the past is the  _past_. You said that yourself about Gwen-“

“This is a little bit different than who I might have been married to, Merlin,” Arthur spat out before he could stop himself.  _Oh_ , and damn him if he didn’t miss the almost imperceptible flicker of hurt that skittered in Merlin’s eyes for a moment. “Shit, sorry. _God_ , Merlin, I just don’t…” He waved his hand helplessly – it did a better job of explaining his feelings than his mouth did, at any rate.

“You and me  _and_ Morgana need to stick together this time, Arthur,” Merlin said, his only concession to Arthur’s skittishness being the gentle brush of fingers just under the cuffs of his shirtsleeves.

Arthur frowned at Merlin’s word choice. “Do you know what happened…last time?”

Merlin shook his head. “Whatever happened drove Morgana away from you. She was angry enough, or maybe  _scared_  enough to want you-“ he cut himself off abruptly.

The missing word –  _dead_  – was suspended in the silence between them.

Arthur swallowed loudly. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know,” Merlin nodded. “Neither will I. She wants to help. Actually I think she needs to help. I think it’s time we were all on the same page, don’t you?”

Arthur paused for a moment, considering his options, before also nodding. “We’ll look at the book together. But first I want to make sure that Morgana’s okay. It’s not exactly been a straightforward day.”

Merlin huffed a slight laugh. “Maggie promised me pastries.”

Arthur dropped his head, a small, amused sound crossing his own lips that was far too close to a snort for the situation.

“Do you ever just get to… _stop_?” Merlin asked a few seconds of quiet. “I mean, there was this morning…and then what happened at Selfridges. And t-“

“Pendragons don’t back down,” Arthur’s mouth had delivered the words into being without thought. He licked his lips slightly, unhappy with the taste of the unbidden mantra his father had drilled into his head from a young age.

Merlin looked momentarily appalled, followed by a swift dip into understanding. “Stiff upper lip and all that?” he smiled sardonically.

“It doesn’t matter what happens,” Arthur continued having lost the need to keep his thoughts in check, “we have to carry on as if nothing’s wrong.” He looked around the room. “It’s always been like that.”

“And how are they going to explain Selfridges?” Merlin asked as he gestured towards the door.

Arthur led Merlin back out into the hallway, pulling the door closed with a resounding click of finality. It hurt a little. “A flood probably. Or a gas leak. Or one of the many excuses that Annis and co will be forcing upon the management as we speak.”

Merlin halted Arthur’s progress down the stairs by taking his hand in his own. “You can stop worrying. Morgana’s with Maggie, and we’ll work out what to do about Owain as quickly as we can.”

The rush of gratitude Arthur felt for the boy beside him was only topped by that of affection. “Thank you,” he said eventually, the words not nearly enough for what he wanted to say. He wasn’t even sure where the surge of feeling had come from hearing that Merlin was protecting Morgana as best as he could.

Merlin smiled, and even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes it was enough to propel Arthur forward, tugging Merlin after him. He could rely on Annis to lynch anyone who even dreamed of breathing a word about the fact the Prince of Wales and his best friend from university were clattering down the stairs of Clarence House, hand in hand. And in that moment, to be completely honest, Arthur didn’t really care.

* * *

Morgana looked like a shadow of her usual glamorous self. She hadn’t wanted either her brother or Merlin to sit next to her when she read the first two pages of the translated book, but Merlin knew that Arthur was just as poised as he was to rush forward and comfort or support the second the princess needed them. From the way Morgana’s fingers were worrying the fabric of her skirt it didn’t look as if that second would be too far away.

“It’s real, isn’t it?” Morgana asked eventually looking between the two boys facing her. “Gwen was Guinevere, and  _you_ …” she looked at Arthur, shaking her head in surprised disbelief.”

Arthur had said that Morgana had taken the news of the  _past_  quite sensibly when they’d spoken hours earlier, but Merlin would be the first to admit that seeing the truth written down had a tendency to make quite an impact; an impact that could rock the foundations of your very beliefs to the core.

“Morgana,” Arthur said, inching slightly forward on the sofa next to Merlin, as if ready to launch into action, “whatever this book turns out to be…whatever it  _says_ …it wasn’t us. Versions of us maybe, but not  _us_.”

“No,” Morgana shook her head, a sudden flicker of certainty tilting her chin up as she looked directly at her brother. “It was  _us_. The same as we are now. The only differences are the choices we make.”

Arthur frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but Merlin put a hand on his knee to stop him.

“There’s something you need to change,” Merlin said, drawing Morgana’s startled gaze to his own. “Something you need to do right this time.” Those were Morgana’s words, and Merlin could honestly say that they’d stuck with him from the moment she’d uttered them two years earlier. He saw Arthur open his mouth again, so he increased the pressure of his fingers against the prince’s knee, hoping the meaning was clear –  _don’t even think about saying a **word**._

Morgana nodded almost imperceptibly, but Merlin had been watching her so carefully he noticed it as easily as if she had jumped up and down, waving a banner stating ‘I remember! I remember!’ – not that Morgana would ever do something as unrefined as that. Merlin shook himself, blaming his veering thoughts on his mostly-empty stomach.

“There’s a third page,” Arthur’s voice did end up breaking the fragile silence, and Merlin fought the urge to growl in despair.

“There is?” Morgana looked to her brother again. A sense of relief and hope seemed to have lightened her expression as she realised that Arthur wasn’t blaming her for past actions.

Arthur nodded. “Gaius seemed keen for us to read it as soon as possible. But maybe we should work out what we’re going to do about Owain first. I’m surprised our father hasn’t threatened to come back to London.”

Merlin flinched at the same time Morgana did.

“Keep him away from this, Arthur,” Morgana’s voice shook faintly as she spoke. “Please. Keep Uther away from all of this for as long as possible.”

Arthur’s brow creased with an unspoken question.

“Because I don’t trust him,” Morgana replied, steadier this time. “Especially where magic’s concerned. If they work out that Owain’s still…not Owain, I can’t imagine what Uther might order them to do to him.”

Merlin swallowed loudly and Arthur turned to him.

“You don’t trust him either,” the prince said. It was a statement of fact, not an accusation.

Merlin shook his head.

“Then we agree to keep anything else we know about the creature to ourselves until after we’ve freed Owain,” Arthur continued.

“What about the doctor?” Merlin asked quietly. “Leon said the doctor was familiar with this kind of creature – surely word will get to your father.”

Arthur sighed. “I don’t think so. I trust every man who was in that room with my life.” Merlin noticed that Arthur blanched slightly as that room contained Owain who was technically an attempted murderer. “I kept Agravaine away,” Arthur continued, “because I distrust him and his team. The council have yet to be informed. Leon will ensure that Doctor Ashburn remains discreet – as far as I could tell he seemed nervous to be discussing magic at all, therefore he can probably be persuaded to keep quiet for risk of being embroiled in the chaos that would follow if the King was aware.”

Merlin almost smiled. Arthur had shifted seamlessly into his role of prince and protector once more. “And your father’s order for you to detain whoever attacked Percy this morning?”

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. “We’d be looking for the intruder, regardless of what happened afterwards. That search will continue.”

“Don’t worry about what happened in Selfridges,” Morgana piped up. “Annis will have fed a believable story to all involved.”

Merlin caught Arthur’s look of  _I told you so._

“And, “ Morgana continued, with the hint of a tentative smile just at the corner of her lips, “I’ll promise Godfrey to take Merlin back for a proper shopping expedition as long as he keeps his mouth shut.”

“You think that will work?” Merlin asked torn between horror and scepticism.

Morgana’s smile grew. “Merlin, after you left Godfrey was more upset about the fact that you were leaving his floor without taking the entire Marc Jacobs Spring collection with you, than he was about the fact his department was in tatters.”

Merlin’s eyes unconsciously dropped to his legs.

“Oh,” Morgana looked at him as if seeing him properly for the first time. “Merlin, did you steal a pair of jeans?”

Merlin wanted to shout about how ridiculous this day was. Shout about how completely insane the Pendragon siblings were to be able to cope with a crisis and still  _try_  and find something light in there somewhere. But he couldn’t do that because the tentative hope in Morgana’s eyes, and the hint of delight that hid in her taunt, were too precious to destroy.

“Yes,” Merlin replied eventually. “On top of everything else…I’m apparently also a petty thief.

“Fuck,” Arthur said quietly, the faintest sense of humour on his face. “What else could possibly go wrong now?”

Merlin shook his head. Arthur just  _had_  to go and say that, didn’t he?

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin downed the glass of water in as few gulps as possible, ignoring Arthur’s yelled suggestions that he should be  _sipping_  it. Morgana was, at the same time, intent on trying to get Merlin to sit down as if he were about to fall over at any moment. There was a moment where he considered how possible it would be to drown himself with the tumbler of water just to get away.

“Merlin, I really think you should sit down,” Morgana was trying to push him into Arthur’s desk chair now. Arthur was still not conceding his battle with Merlin’s right hand for ownership of the faxed page.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s tone dropped into something gentler, but his tug on the paper only increased, “just give me the page.”

Merlin, who was torn between laughing hysterically or curling into a sobbing mess, refused to give in to the prince by scrunching the document tighter in his grasp. Gwen’s words were flitting through his mind, only letting him snatch on to the odd sentence fragments for a second as the words whizzed past.

_It is so clear now it is only a wonder that we did not understand earlier and-_

_\- and Merlin was always beside him._

_There were moments when I would have sworn he was hiding something…_

_to know how many he was forced to kill, not for Camelot, but in Arthur’s name. For it was Arthur-_

_Perhaps if my Lady had known of Merlin’s magic it would have saved her._

_They were both so alone. We will never know if he could have prevented the path she took._

Merlin did sit down. Not because he wanted to, but because his knees finally gave way under Morgana’s insistent pushing. The paper slipped from his grasp at the same moment.

“Okay, Merlin,” Arthur had wrapped warm arms around Merlin and was breathing his words onto the back of his neck. “Remember what you said. This…what’s written here, wasn’t you. It was a choice that was made. Not you. You’re making everyone else believe it, so you have to as well.”

Merlin, despite the fuzzy grasp of reality he had right now, was struck by how irritating it was when your own words came back to haunt you. It didn’t stop the fact the overwhelming gut feeling of having failed Morgana.

_We’ll never know if he could have prevented the path she took._

“Merlin!”

 _Jesus bloody fuck, did Morgana just slap him?_ Merlin raised a hand to his stinging cheek, successfully dragged from his mire of depression.

“Morgana!” Arthur sounded slightly appalled. Merlin was distantly pleased.

“I’m sorry,” Morgana said as she crouched in front of Merlin. “Merlin, look at me.”

Merlin looked because Morgana was using her ‘I dare you to defy me’ tone.

Morgana nodded her head in the direction of Merlin’s right shoulder. This turned out to be a cue for Arthur to bugger off because Merlin instantly found himself released by Arthur.

“Merlin,” Morgana said again. “You didn’t fail anyone. You should know by now that if I make up my mind to do something, nothing could ever persuade me to change direction. You protected Arthur; Merlin, it looks like you protected an entire  _kingdom_ without asking for recognition and reward. I know you will only have acted in the way that you thought was  _right_.”

Merlin hadn’t ever really appreciated the fact that Arthur and Morgana were, for all of their normality in some situations, completely different than most people on the planet. Morgana had rediscovered her confidence entirely since they’d left Clarence House and retreated to Arthur’s study in Kensington; she was fully aware that the Morgana of Legend (or not actually Legend as it was becoming increasingly clear) had betrayed Camelot and all those she had once called friend, and yet she had now chosen to defy the past and prove that she could make the correct choices  _now_. It would have been fairly awe-inspiring if Merlin wasn’t labouring under a tonne of guilt (and her words hadn’t been preceded by violence).

“How can you be so calm?” Merlin whispered eventually.

Morgana gave him a small smile. “Because I love you and I love Arthur, and I know that I’d never betray either of you. Even if you are a pair of fuckwits.”

Merlin was startled into a laugh.

Morgana looked pleased, but it was clear she was still troubled. Sensing Merlin’s understanding the princess continued, “I can’t say that reading more of this and finding out the truth is going to be easy, Merlin. I can’t say I’ll ever understand any of this, or understand how I, or  _she_ , could ever turn her back like that. But I  _do_  know that you and I have made the right choice this time; you haven’t hidden yourself from me, and I not from you or Arthur.”

“Bloody hell, Morgana,” Merlin breathed after a long moment of silence. “I…” he trailed off with a shrug, not entirely sure how to voice what he felt towards his friend in that moment.

Morgana wrapped her arms around and planted a kiss on his cheek. Still holding him close she whispered, “I just happen to be less emotionally stunted than you or my brother.”

Merlin gave another surprised laugh as Morgana pulled away and stood up. There were unshed tears in the Princess’ eyes, but she looked as defiant as she ever had.

Merlin heard Arthur shift uncomfortably behind them, before standing shoulder to shoulder with his sister.

“How do we stop the creature?” the prince asked. Calmly enough that no unsuspecting visitor would be aware of the chaotic nature of the preceding twenty minutes.

Morgana took a deep breath and squared her shoulders and for a second Merlin thought he remembered this stance. Morgana (and Gwen?) standing alongside Arthur and Merlin; all four of them ready to defend something…or somewhere. But as Morgana exhaled the image was snatched from him.

“In a few hours there will be another creature controlling Owain,” the princess stated. “No matter how many times you kill a head, another one will just grow in its place.”

“How did you stop it last time then?” Arthur looked at Merlin.

“I have no idea,” Merlin shook his head. “I don’t remember anything about it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Morgana was assured in her knowledge. “The victim is unlikely to remember anything that occurred whilst under the control of the Fomorroh. It can only be killed by destroying the source.”

“Which is where?” Arthur asked.

Morgana sighed again. “That I don’t know. But I’m  _sure_  there must be a way of tracing the source.”

“With magic?” Arthur asked.

Merlin and Morgana both turned to the prince, eyes questioning.

“Yes,” Arthur nodded, sounding irritated. “I know you two both understand this more than I do, but I’m just checking.”

“You’d be okay with letting us use magic to stop this?” Merlin asked carefully.

“Of course I would be,” Arthur replied immediately.

Merlin and Morgana shared a quick glance.

“I need to go to Gaius,” Merlin said firmly. “He has texts that might be useful. I can pick up any more translated pages while I’m there.”

“I’ll come with you,” Arthur said.

“So will I.” Morgana glared at her brother when he shot her a disbelieving look.

“Neither of you are coming with me,” Merlin replied as he stood up. “After what happened this morning it’s clear that someone is targeting me. I’m not dragging you two into this any more than you already.”

“Fuck that,” Morgana snapped. “If you’re going th-“

“Not a bloody chance!” Arthur interrupted, grabbing Merlin’s wrist tightly. “I thought you’d be alright in Selfridges with a whole team of security, not to mention  _Owain_  was living in the house and-“

“So putting you and Morgana in more danger makes more sense to you, Arthur, does it?” Merlin tried to pull his hand free. Damn Arthur and his damn strong hands.

“You’re so bloody stubborn, Merlin,” Arthur retorted. “And I’m not suggesting that Morgana sets foot outside of this-“

“Arthur!” Morgana’s voice had dropped dangerously low. “I’m going. You can’t stop me.”

“Oh can’t I?” asked Arthur, looking awfully smug.

“No, you can’t,” Morgana smirked. Merlin was concerned about that smirk.

“For fuck’s sake!” Merlin added “Neither or you are coming with me.”

“Excuse me!”

“What?” all three of them shouted as they turned towards the sound of the new voice.

Leon was standing by the door, his hands held out in a placating manner. “I knocked,” he said, “but you couldn’t hear me.” Leon frowned. “Over all the shouting.”

Arthur let go of Merlin’s wrist and Morgana unclenched her fists as the three of them took a guilty step away from each other. Merlin noted that Morgana looked awfully contrite as she ducked her eyes slightly.

“What is it, Leon?” Arthur asked acidly.

“Your father.”

Merlin watched as both Morgana and Arthur deflated. Morgana sighed in frustration, and Arthur swiped a hand through his hair.

“He’s requested that you call him with an update about the events in Cambridge Place this morning,” Leon pursed his lips.

“He couldn’t just call himself, could he?” Morgana spat.

“I’ll inform him of any updates later,” Arthur replied. “I have something else I need to do first.”

“No, Arthur,” Leon shook his head, looking slightly apologetic as he did so. “He wants you to call him  _now_.”

Arthur’s spine stiffened immediately.

“Ignore him, Arthur,” Morgana said. “You can call him later.”

“And give him time to find out about Owain?” Arthur laughed sarcastically.

“I’ve prepared the phone in the conference room,” Leon maintained his calm tone.

“You two,” Arthur looked between Merlin and his sister, “stay here.” He stared at both of them for long seconds before following Leon out of the room.

Morgana shifted first. “Come on then.”

“Morgana, “ Merlin hissed her name through gritted teeth. “I told you I-“

“Merlin,” Morgana dropped an arm over Merlin’s shoulders, “neither of us will get out of this palace if I give a single person any chance to suspect that you are about to head off on some grand and dangerous adventure against the very wishes of their prince.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open in dismay. “ _Morgana!_ ”

“We’re all in this together,” Morgana replied sweetly, before frowning. “Eurgh…that was trite.”

“Morgana, please.”

“Look,” Morgana dropped her arm and faced him, “I remember more about this Fomorroh than you do. I might see something that helps us solve this more quickly. Isn’t that what you want?”

Merlin was tempted to tell her how evil she was, but the slight churning in his stomach suggested that comment would not go down well. “Of course it is, but-“

“Merlin,” Morgana’s eyes had widened, “I need to understand more about magic, okay? Gaius has helped you. Maybe he can help me too.”

And fuck it all, Merlin couldn’t argue with that. Without Gaius he would have been directionless. Morgana didn’t have someone like that in her life.

“Fine,” Merlin relented with a sigh, “but I’m looking after myself when Arthur tries to kill us both.”

“He’ll get over it,” Morgana said assuredly. “He’s never managed to beat me in a fight, and he wouldn’t dare ruin your lovely face.”

“ _Morgana!”_

“Besides,” Morgana smiled, a cat-like grin slowly spreading over her face, “we’ll need Elyan to drive us and he really doesn’t like you right now.”

Merlin swallowed loudly. “Not forgiven for stealing the car then?”

“Not even a little bit,” Morgana replied. “But he won’t kill you in front of me. He’s far too much of a gentleman for that.”

“That makes me feel much better,” Merlin frowned.

“Good,” Morgana headed towards the door. “Now let’s go before Arthur sends Leon back to make sure we’re still here.”

“Gaius might not even be at home,” Merlin tried one last pitiful argument against the whirlwind that was the Princess Royal on a mission.

“That’s okay.” Morgana flashed him another smile as they stepped out onto the landing. “We can practise your Danish grammar while we wait.”


	15. Chapter 15

Yes, of course, Father.” Arthur gripped the phone tighter, unable to shake the fantasy of just crushing the plastic casing beneath his fingers in order to end the ordeal that was conversing with his father.

Arthur learned at a very young age that ‘having a conversation’ with Uther Pendragon was defined as ‘standing very still and looking as pious as possible while Uther snapped instructions or defamations in a cold and unwavering tone.’

He’d honestly thought that by standing up to his father about his relationship with Merlin that something would have changed. Perhaps Arthur had finally matured enough to plead his case sensibly; perhaps Uther would respect him more, even if he didn’t agree with Arthur’s choice. Perhaps, perhaps,  _perhaps._

Within thirty seconds of Uther’s private secretary at Sandringham transferring Arthur ‘s call th rough, the prince was convinced that things had not improved. In fact, he was starting to think that his relationship with the King was souring further with every second that passed.

“I had expected you to be capable enough of tracking down a single magic user, Arthur,” Uther’s calculated disassembling of Arthur’s confidence continued. “I had also expected you to keep the Advisory Council informed of any developments.”

Arthur tensed. “There haven’t been any developments.” Fuck, there was no way Uther could know about Owain. Not without someone betraying Arthur’s trust.

“Agravaine and Luther Aredian suspect otherwise,” Uther replied.

“Then they are mistaken,” Arthur responded immediately, infusing as much confidence into that lie as was possible. “Percival has no recollection of anything after his arrival at the house until he woke in the park. The CCTV and security systems have been checked and there is no sign of anything unusual. I have no idea why Agravaine would suspect I was withholding information from him.”

 _Yes I do_ , thought Arthur. But he knew he couldn’t tell his father – Agravaine had been in Uther’s service for many years and the King trusted him. Furthermore, Arthur was still convinced that Agravaine would do everything in his power to make Merlin’s life difficult – possibly at the behest of Uther himself. How Aredian fit into everything, Arthur still didn’t understand, but that didn’t mean he would trust a single word out of his mouth. The fact Uther still believed in Aredian’s integrity was worrying, but not a subject the prince was going to broach with his father any time soon.

Uther was silent for a long moment.

Arthur recognised Uther’s particular brand of quiet – it w as designed to force the other party into disclosing something for fear of the silence stretching well-beyond a comfortable amount of time. He held his tongue.

“I don’t believe I need to remind you of my disappointment in your recent decisions, Arthur,” Uther eventually hissed. “I had hoped that your lapse in personal judgment would not impinge on your ability to conduct your diplomatic and security duties as Prince.”

“Of course not, Father,” Arthur repeated his earlier comment. He held his breath, still unsure whether or not Uther was going to call his bluff and announce his knowledge of Owain’s involvement in the day’s events.

“If I find that you are neglecting to follow orders, or are purposefully withholding any information that would put this country at risk, I will deal with you personally, Arthur.” Uther’s voice was as steady as the edge of steel it conveyed. “You will reconvene the Advisory Council tomorrow morning. If I deem you incapable of leading this investigation then I will return to London immediately. ”

“Yes, Father.” God, Arthur hated that his own voice trembled slightly.

“And,  _Arthur_ …”Uther trailed off into another patented silence. “It will not bode well for Mr Emrys if my return to the city is expedited by your incompetence.”

Arthur only just about staved off the sigh of relief that threatened to burst from his lungs as the line went dead. He replaced the receiver in it’s cradle and ran a hand over his face, frowning when his fingers scratched over stubble.

“Arthur?” The call of his name was followed by a soft knock on the door. Leon entered a moment later.

One look at his bodyguard’s face was enough to tell Arthur all he needed to know.

“Oh, for f…” Arthur trailed off, already moving towards the corridor. “How long ago did they leave?”

“Twenty minutes ago,” Leon replied, falling into step next to the prince.

Arthur wasn’t surprised, not really. It didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off though. “Tell Galahad to get the car,” he snapped as they jogged down the staircase. He was annoyed, but he wasn’t going to ask a slightly concussed Leon to drive anywhere.

“Already done,” Leon replied immediately as he snagged Arthur’s coat from a hook by the door and shoved it into the prince’s hand.

“Sometimes, Leon,” Arthur said as they continued their march through the gallery, “I wonder why I bother with anyone else.”

* * *

“Really, Gaius,” Morgana took the almost-empty plate from the man’s hands and pushed him into an armchair, “the jammy dodgers were enough. Honestly I don’t think I could face another biscuit.”

“But I’m sure I have some chocolate hobnobs, Your Royal Highness,” Gaius replied, looking distractedly towards the kitchen.

Merlin opened his mouth to agree with the hobnob search, but shut it again when Morgana sent him a pointed look.

“Really, Gaius, it’s Morgana, please,” the princess said, settling back onto the sofa next to Merlin. “You’ve been so gracious, even though we turned up without any warning or explanation. We really shouldn’t have just arrived unannounced.”

Merlin, again, wanted to interject and point out that he was actually only here under pain of death. Actual death if the dark glan ces Elyan was shooting him from the corner were any indication.

“I’ll help in any way I can,” Gaius replied earnestly, hobnob foraging clearly forgotten (Merlin internally sighed). “I believe I might be able to find the creature you’re looking for in one of the texts I have upstairs.” He glanced nervously at Elyan.

Morgana noticed. “Elyan,” she said, imperious tone making a rare appearance, “I think it would be best if you wait outside. I have no doubt that my brother will be arriving shortly, and I’m sure he would agree that a threat is far more likely to come from outside than inside.”

Elyan ducked his head slightly. “I can assure you that Hector is monitoring the building from the car.”

“Yes,” Morgana replied with a wave of her hand, “but what if the threat manifests itself in the back garden?” She pointed towards the window . “I’m sure the back door isn’t being monitored by Hector, is it?”

Elyan looked irritated for only a split second, but Merlin almost laughed at the momentary crack in his professionalism.

“Of course,” Elyan replied smoothly. “I’ll be just outside.”

“Thank you,” Morgana called, biting back a smile as Elyan left the room. “Now,” she dropped her voice and turned to Gaius, “we already know what the creature is, Gaius, and I think I know how it can be destroyed.”

Gaius’s face crinkled into immediate understanding. “You have read the translated pages too, M’am?”

“ _Morgana_. And yes I have.”

Merlin knew that Gaius was holding back a barrage of questions. “It’s a Fomorroh, Gaius,” he interjected before the man could get sidetracked, “do you know of it?”

Gaius frowned as he stood up. “Off the top of my head, Merlin, no, I don’t. But if you’d both follow me into the study I think we can clear up any questions about this creature.”

Merlin and Morgana followed wordlessly, both hovering just inside the door of Gaius’ cramped study as he extracted books, seemingly indiscriminately, from a pile under the desk. After a moment or two of searching, and a number of texts being hurled over his shoulder, Gaius finally alighted on the text he was looking for.

Merlin immediately moved to his godfather’s side and took the book from his hand.

 _“Merlin!”_ Gaius admonished, but Merlin was already flicking through the pages quickly, eyes scanning for any word or illustration that would help them identify the Fomorroh.

“Go back!” Morgana hissed when Merlin’s eyes skidded over an illustration too quickly as his thumb lost its grip on the page.

Turning back a few pages Merlin screwed up his face in distaste when he happened upon the illustration of the Fomorroh. It wasn’t just one head looking back at him, as had been in the jar Leon had held up at the palace, but instead a mass of slithering forms, looking ready to pounce.

“That’s it,” Morgana said, pulling the book from his grasp. “That’s definitely it.”

Merlin caught sight of Guinevere’s book resting on the desk and immediately snatched it up.

“Merlin, be careful with that!” Gaius shouted. “You must handle it carefully.”

Merlin noticed the soft gloves that Gaius often used when handling old texts lying beside where the book had been. There were also various tweezers and implements that Merlin was sure would be very helpful in preserving old parchmen t, but probably not all that useful when working against the clock to stop a magical creature transforming a loyal man into an assassin.

“No time,” Merlin hissed, quickly flicking through the pages of Guinevere’s book, wishing that he’d taken more time to examine each page in detail before it had been handed over to Gaius. Then again…he’d been quite busy dealing with life-altering revelations at the time He could probably forgive himself the oversight.

He was expecting it, of course he was, but he still felt unprepared for the second illustration of the Fomorroh in under two minutes. The dusky, charcoal-esque material that had been used for its creation gave the creature a much more demonic look than that of the clean, blue lines of Gaius’ other text. He ran his finger, entirely unbidden, over the drawing and he felt his magic tingle beneath his skin.

Merlin dropped the book as if he’d been burned.

“What is it?” Morgana asked immediately, Gaius only a split second behind with his own inquiry of concern.

“I don’t know,” Merlin shook his head quickly. “My magic…sort of  _reacted_  to that drawing.”

Morgana frowned before retrieving the book and finding the correct page.

Merlin noted, with only a minor hint of irritation, that Gaius didn’t admonish the princess for her lack of care when handling the text.

Morgana elicited a soft breath. Merlin watched as her fingers tightened on the book, her eyes clamping shut.

“Morgana?” Merlin reached out a hand to curl around Morgana’s wrist. “Morgana, what’s wrong?”

The book tumbled to the floor once more as the princess opened her eyes. Gaius gently took Morgana’s elbow as she turned to face him in surprise.

“You,” Morgana whispered. “I remember you.”

Gaius nodded sadly. “I’m afraid that’s probably true.”

Merlin looked quickly at his godfather. He knew that Gaius’s name had been mentioned in Guinevere’s book, but this was the first time that Merlin had actually had to face up to the fact that he was a another person Merlin had known  _before._

“We have to destroy the Fomorroh at its source,” Morgana’s voice was quiet, but steady as she looked at Merlin.

“Do you know where the source is, Morgana?” Merlin asked, just as softly.

The princess shook her head. “But now I definitely know how we can find it.”

Gaius looked between the two young people standing in his study. “I’ll go and put the ke ttle on,” he said, patting Merlin’s arm, “while you two sort out the logistics.”

* * *

Arthur pressed the doorbell again, thankful for the cover of the darkening evening as the seconds stretched out and there was still no answer. He knew Merlin and Morgana were here; Galahad was currently speaking to Hector in a non-descript black car parked across the road.

Well,  _fairly_ non-descript. Slightly  _less_  non-descript now that there were two of them.

“We’ve got some curtain-twitchers, Arthur,” Leon’s voice had an annoying sing-song quality to it that almost had the prince rounding on him with a snarl.

But Arthur held his temper in check (Merlin would probably say he was maturing) and pressed the doorbell again. More seconds passed and the restraint left Arthur. He hammered on the door with the flat of his palm.

Arthur was so intent on his mission to cause as much noise as possible – whi lst still maintaining anonymity obviously – that he was more than slightly startled when the door open suddenly and his palm  _almost_  connected with Merlin’s shoulder.

“Bloody hell, Arthur,” Merlin snapped. “Can’t you take a hint?”

Arthur glared at Merlin and shouldered his way into the house,, Leon following more politely behind him.

“I should have known you and the she-devil would make a break for it,” Arthur rounded on the other boy when the door was firmly closed behind them.

“You can’t honestly be having a tantrum about this?” Merlin’s irritation hadn’t faded, but Arthur could tell there was guilt lurking there underneath the bravado. He wasn’t surprised at that – he’d never seen anyone deny Morgana anything for very long.

“Go in there, sit down, and shut up,” Merlin pointed at an open door to their left. “Leon, if you wouldn’t mind keeping his Highness in there for a few minutes we might actually be able to help Owain sooner rather than later.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Leon nudged him in the back and Arthur quickly found himself sitting on a chintzy sofa in a room with far too many stuffed birds for his liking.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Leon asked after a few minutes of tense silence that had been broken only when Leon half-reached for a biscuit (Arthur had glared and Leon had retracted his fingers immediately).

“Probably having a little magic meeting. Merlin and Morgana being all magicky together,” Arthur huffed, and  _yes_ , alright, he knew that wasn’t exactly mature, but the phone call with his father had set him on edge. If they were going to track down the magic user it had to be tonight.

On edge enough that he didn’t quite think about what he’d said until Leon choked on a biscuit he’d somehow managed to snaffle under Arthur’s watchful gaze.

“Magicky?” Leon coughed, slapping his palm against his chest as he cleared his throat. “Magicky  _together_?”

Well, crap. Arthur decided then and there that he should never be trusted with imperial secrets, because he had a horrible tendency to disclose things when he was pissed off with Merlin.

Arthur didn’t quite get the chance to respond before a rather unexpected, and very tearful Morgana appeared in the doorway. The prince wasn’t quite sure whether he got to his feet first, or Leon did. Either way, Morgana suddenly found herself propped up with a six-feet-odd of worried man on either side of her. Gaius was hovering nearby looking distraught.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur as ked immediately. “Morgana, tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt?”

“No,” Morgana shook her head as she whispered. “I tried to find the source, but it hurts.” She pressed her fingers against her forehead. “I can’t do it, and if I can’t do it…what if Owain dies?”

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. “You tried to do magic?”

Morgana nodded. “I can’t control it. The spell’s too powerful. Gaius told me not to.”

Realisation dawned on Arthur and a cold weight settled in his stomach. “Morgana, is Merlin going to try and cast the spell?”

Morgana nodded again. “I took the book from him when you were at the door. Don’t blame him. It wasn’t his fault.”

“It’s a very dangerous spell,” Gaius said.

Arthur pushed his sister gently towards Leon. “Leon, look after her. I need to stop Merlin before the idiot kills himself.”

He raced out of the room, almost knocking Gaius over in the process. “Merlin!” Fuck, why did anyone trust Merlin to leave him on his own when there was the potential for him to get into trouble.

He heard shuffling, followed by the door in front of him closing. Arthur, blessed with the quick reflexes of someone who’d spent years in sports teams, thrust his arm forwards catching the door with his palm. He winced slightly as he felt his wrist give under the sudden obstruction, but pushed until he could squeeze into the room.

Merlin was sitting on the other side of the room, magic clearly employed in his unsuccessful door slamming,

“You can’t stop me, Arthur,” Merlin said, raising a large book in front of him, as if for protection. “We need to do this, and I can’ t let Morgana try again.”

Arthur shook his head. “No, Merlin. Morgana said it was dangerous. Gaius agrees too. There has to be another way.”

“Not this time,” Merlin smiled sadly. “I’ll be okay, Arthur. I’ve cast more powerful things than this saving your arse when we were at uni.”

“But I don’t want-“

“Me to use magic?” Merlin frowned.

“Get hurt, idiot,” Arthur clarified. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Merlin’s features immediately softened. “It really is the only way. I know you still feel…I don’t know… _something_ , something not good about magic, but you have to see that this is the only way to save Owain. The longer we wait, the more danger everyone is in.”

Arthur looked over Merlin’s shoulder out onto the street. T he day had faded into twilight now over the perfectly normal residential street. It wasn’t exactly the setting for some grand magical gesture.

“Here,” Merlin said softly, reaching out a hand to curl his fingers around Arthur's. “Just stay here.”

 _Don’t be a fucking idiot, Pendragon_ , Arthur yelled at himself.  _Magical olive branch being waved in your ungrateful (and undeserving) face – do not fuck this up._

Arthur swallowed, grasping Merlin’s hand in his own and nodding at the book. “Just do it, so we can get out of here and save Owain. Save the world. Save whatever needs saving. Then I would very much like to take you back to Cambridge Place and discuss that reminder you left me with this morning.”

Merlin laughed in surprise. “So, you’re now a rough, tough save-the-world kind of man, are you?”

Arthur smiled as widely as he could, which in that moment wasn’t really saying much. “That’s me.”

“Here we go,” Merlin took a deep breath.

Arthur closed his eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

By the age of twenty-two Merlin thought he knew exactly what to expect when he cast a spell. Not in terms of success – of that he could never quite be certain – but he knew how he should  _feel_. The threads of enchantments weren’t usually visible, but Merlin always had a sense that he remained connected to the magic until it had fulfilled its purpose, tendrils of power flowing out from within him.

This spell was not like that.

Merlin sucked in a breath as his magic seemed to fold in on itself, coiling tighter and tighter the more he tried to untangle it. Gaius had warned him that this would be a dangerous spell; finding the source of dark magic was never easy, and required the seeker to imbibe some of that darkness in order to accurately track its location. His own magic was fighting against that intrusion.

Morgana had tried the spell, and failed; the princess clutching at her head before even half of the incantation had drifted from her lips. Merlin, now, could understand that response; his mind filled with images, all fuzzy and distorted but with a definitive sense of malevolence pervading each one. He tried to grasp at something from the cacophony in his head, but his magic railed against him with each attempt; clearly the desire for self-preservation, which had failed miserably on previous occasions (generally when Arthur’s life was in danger), had developed a new lease of life and seemed determined to thwart any attempts Merlin made to reach for the source of the Fomorroh.

 _Come on, come on,_ Merlin chanted to himself as he fought against his very nature.  _Almost there, almo-_

Merlin felt his heart stutter and then stop completely for just a split-second longer than the length of a normal beat. In the gap between heartbeats, Merlin fe lt a presence crawling up his skin and through his veins, taking root in the hollow of his chest and squeezing tightly. For that brief moment Merlin was overcome with a dizzying sense of rage, and a dozen or more voices screamed out for vengeance in his mind.

He only noticed the whistling in his ears when it came to a complete halt as his eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times, unable to clear the darkness completely, his breath coming in gasps as he tried to regain equilibrium.

It was only when awareness slowly dawned that Merlin realised the obstruction to his vision was due to his forehead being pressed to Arthur’s chest. He patted feebly at the prince’s arms and Arthur immediately loosened of the vice-like grip he had been holding Merlin in.

“Okay…” Merlin breathed as he glanced around him. “Gaius is going to kill me.”

Arthur’s impression of a human shield immediately made a lot more sense; the two of them were crouched on the floor, partially under the small desk. Merlin’s hip was jammed up against a pile of thick-spined books and Arthur’s was rubbing the crown of his head, where he’d clearly collided with the underside of the desk. From what Merlin could see there were books strewn around the room (more so than usual) and the light fitting was fizzing dangerously in the centre of the ceiling.

Arthur’s hands came up to rest on Merlin’s shoulders before Merlin had time to utter another word.

“What the hell just happened?” Arthur asked, his eyes wide in alarm.

“I don’t know,” Merlin winced slightly as he tilted his neck to work out a crick he could feel forming. “I don’t think my magic liked that spell very much.”

“The books just flew off the shelves,” Arthur explai ned as he unconsciously dug his thumbs into Merlin’s arms and began a slow circling motion. “The second you finished speaking…you just went rigid.”

“I’m alright,” Merlin nodded slightly. “Honestly.” It was fairly apparent that Arthur didn’t believe him as the prince’s grip only tightened further.

“I saw what it did to Morgana,” Arthur narrowed his eyes as he inspected Merlin’s face for any hint of pain or discomfort, “so don’t expect me to listen to you when you say you’re alright.”

“Stop being a mother hen, Arthur,” Merlin batted the prince away with a roll of his eyes. “I’ve had worse headaches from listening to you prattle on about polo.”

Arthur harrumphed in a way that Merlin considered completely undignified for a future monarch. Merlin kissed him quickly anyway, pulling away before Arthur had time to respond.

“Come on,” said Merlin, “I know where the Fomorroh is.” He nodded his head to signal that Arthur needed to get out of the way.

Arthur harrumphed again, but dutifully shuffled out of their shelter so that Merlin could crawl out after him.

Merlin took Arthur’s offered hand, and tried very hard not to sway when he was pulled to his feet.

“Where is it then?” Arthur asked as they stepped over discarded books and papers. He’d noticed Merlin’s slight list if the arm now wrapped around Merlin’s waist was any indication.

“Hyde Park,” Merlin replied, almost tripping over an umbrella.

The prince sighed. “And your best friend, the dragon, couldn’t have told you about this?” Arthur’s tone had the slightest edge of distaste to it.

“Maybe he doesn’t know everything,” Merlin shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. Internally he was already preparing a litany of questions for said dragon.

Arthur’s only response was an indecipherable grumble, and for that, Merlin was grateful.

Even more grateful when Arthur twisted the key in the lock to open the door and Merlin was suddenly faced with a livid Gaius.

“You stupid boy,” Gaius’ words were accompanied by a cuff to Merlin’s ear.

“Ow!” Merlin rubbed the side of his head in surprise. “What was that for?”

“ _That_ ,” Gaius’ eyes narrowed as he pointed a finger in Merlin’s face, “was for attempting a spell I told you was far too dangerous to try without a lot of practise.”

“Well someone had to do it,” Merlin replied tersely, shrugging off Arthur’s arm in an attempt to appear far more sure of his stability than was actually the case. “I couldn’t risk Morgana having another go at it.”

Gaius  _hmm’d_ , eyebrow arching in not even remotely contained annoyance.

“Did Morgana explain how the creature has to be destroyed?” Merlin asked, choosing o ignore Gaius’ scowl in favour of trying to move the plan forward.

“Yes,” Gaius replied slowly, still looking as though he might strike out at Merlin again if given any hint of an opportunity.

Merlin momentarily wondered if Gaius had  _always_  been like this.

“What is to be done?” Arthur asked, princely command back in his voice once more.

“The Fomorroh can only be destroyed by magic,” Gaius explained, finally turning his back and leading them to the living room. “Any attempt to destroy it through more…usual methods would only result in increasing the creature’s size, and, therefore, threat.”

“Are you alright, Morgana?” Merlin asked quietly as he entered the room to see Morgana leaning heavily against Leon on the sofa. The guard’s arm was held tightly around the princess’ shoulders, the concern for her wellbeing obvious in Leon’s expression.

Morgana nodded, flashing a small smile at Merlin and her brother.

Arthur looked ready to ask Morgana a barrage of questions, but Merlin grasped his wrist quickly with a whispered  _later_.

The prince looked at Merlin for a long moment before nodding. “Right,” he gestured towards Leon. “Leon, I want Hector and Galahad to take Morgana and head back to Clarence House. You and Elyan are to come with Merlin and me to retrieve the Fomorroh from Hyde Park.”

“I ca n help,” Morgana protested, voice quieter than usual.

“I’m not risking your safety any more, Morgana,” Arthur stated, and it was a testament to the worry in his tone  _and_  the lack of spark in Morgana’s expression when the princess sagged in immediate defeat.

Merlin had already geared himself up for dealing with any attempt Arthur made at sending him back to Clarence House too, and was genuinely surprised that there didn’t seem to be any resistance.

“What?” Arthur asked, looking at Merlin again. “Why are you frowning at me?”

“Nothing,” Merlin replied slowly.

Leon helped Morgana to her feet and Merlin tried, in vain, to pick up the soft conversation she had with Gaius as he clasped her hands.

When Leon had escorted the princess out of the room and out to the waiting car as q uickly as possible, Gaius turned his attention back to Merlin.

“Do you have the spell you need?”

Merlin nodded, extracting the folded piece of notebook paper from his pocket. He’d copied it down as soon as Morgana had found the incantation; the princess’ hands had been drawn to a page in Guinevere’s book and even though he couldn’t understand the words that had been written there he’d immediately sensed that they were the correct ones.

“Be careful, my boy,” Gaius looked troubled as he pulled Merlin into a hug, something he rarely did now that Merlin was an adult himself.

“It’ll be fine,” Merlin said quietly as he tightened his arms around his godfather before pulling back. “I promise.”

Gaius only nodded and then turned to Arthur. “Look after him, please, Sire.”

An indignan t “Bu-“ was all Merlin managed to croak out before Arthur cut him off.

“I will,” the prince grasped Gaius hand tightly as he shook it. The serious set of Arthur’s jaw was enough to keep Merlin silent.

Arthur led the way to the second car, walking quickly so as not to encourage any more interested parties to the windows of their front rooms. Merlin hurried after him, climbing into the backseat before Leon shut the door behind him.

“Where exactly is this thing?” Arthur asked as soon Elyan started the car and pulled away from the kerb. “I hope you’re going to be more specific than Hyde Park.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I can actually do things right occasionally, you know, Arthur.”

Arthur looked ready to scoff, but clearly realised that now wasn’t quite the moment to mock Merlin.

“ The new gallery that’s not open yet,” Merlin explained as the car smoothly joined the queuing rush-hour traffic heading for Edgware Road. “The one by the bridge.”

Arthur’s brow creased in thought. “The new part of the Serpentine?”

Merlin nodded. “It’s somewhere inside there. I’m certain of it.”

“Elyan,” Arthur raised his voice so the driver could hear, “we need to go through the Park. Leon, call the team and tell them to be ready to convene at the Sackler Gallery site. And remind them I don’t want certain people informed until this is over.”

Elyan nodded his assent, as did Leon; the latter immediately taking out his phone and calling Arthur’s instructions through to the relevant team member.

“Arthur?” Merlin reached out to grasp the prince’s wrist as he kept his voice quiet enough that his wor ds would not be heard by anyone else.

Arthur looked over, his lips quirking slightly in an unspoken question.

Merlin chose his words carefully. “This creature can only be destroyed by magic, so I’m the only one that can do it.” Arthur said nothing. “So there’s no real reason for anyone else to go into the gallery.”

Arthur’s face twisted immediately into an expression caught somewhere between horror and disbelief. “No real r- Merlin, are you actually soft in the head?  _You’re_ the one who isn’t going into the gallery.”

“What?” Merlin asked loudly in surprise, immediately wishing this car had a privacy screen between front and back. From the tense lines of Leon and Elyan’s shoulders he guessed he probably wasn’t the only one with that desire. “But-“ he cut himself off when he realised that not everyone in this car was priv y to his little secret.

Arthur reached up with his free hand and hooked his fingers around the back of Merlin’s neck, before pulling him forwards so that there was barely a breath of air between them.

“You are  _not_  going in there,” Arthur whispered, and Merlin felt rather than heard the words spoken almost against his lips. “I’ll make sure they get the creature out and  _then_  you can do whatever it is you need to do to destroy it.”

Merlin swallowed loudly, because now was  _really_  not the time to be fixating on Arthur’s mouth.

“You have no idea who could be waiting for you inside that gallery, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice dropped impossibly lower as he continued, fingers tightening in the strands of hair at the nape of Merlin’s neck. “I’m not sending you to the wolves.”

“And you?” Mer lin somehow managed to force the question out.

Arthur’s grip loosened and his fingers skimmed over Merlin’s cheek before coming to rest under his chin. “I’m staying with you, because I know you’ll only try and get yourself killed if I leave you behind.”

“You think your team will be able to stop someone with magic?” Merlin dropped his head forward slightly to avoid direct eye contact, not quite able to believe that Arthur wasn’t suggesting running in headfirst himself.

“It’s what they’re all trained to do, Merlin,” Arthur replied. “We have to trust them.”

 _And hope for the best_.

 

* * *

Arthur was making a concerted effort to keep from bouncing his leg in nervous anticipation as the car finally pulled into the Park. There were far more people around than Arthur would have liked; the bright lights and January sales on Oxford Street would be drawing people through Hyde Park for hours yet, but he couldn’t afford to waste time. Whoever was responsible for the attack on Owain needed to be apprehended as soon as possible, and there would be no way to clear the park in time, or without causing panic.

Merlin was disconcertingly quiet, and had been since they’d left Maida Vale behind them and the car had continued its slow crawl back towards the Park. Arthur knew that Merlin didn’t quite trust his promise to stay out of the gallery, but the prince  _had_ actually been telling the truth; he had no intention of entering that gallery when there was a chance that Merlin would follow with some half-c ocked plan and an unwavering loyalty.

Arthur had done far too much to risk that loyalty as it was; he wasn’t going to betray Merlin’s trust again.

“Leon?” Arthur saw Merlin jump slightly out of the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Are you sure you’re okay to-“ Arthur waved his hand, gesturing indiscriminately between Leon’s head and the security fence surrounding the partially completed gallery in the near-distance.

“I’m fine, Arthur,” Leon replied immediately. “But I still would rather you and Merlin were elsewhere for the duration of this.”

Arthur sighed. “My father asked me to spearhead the search for the magic user. It’s really a direct order that I have to be here.”

Leon looked ready to argue.

“For me too.” Merlin piped up for the first time in ages and Arthur almost laughed at the renewed determination he heard there.

“Well that’s not entirely true,” Arthur avoided looking at Merlin, keeping a steady gaze on Leon instead, “but you know he’ll just whinge if we leave him behind.”

Arthur was expecting the punch to his arm when it came. He was also expecting the accompanying grin, slight though it was.

However, banter aside, the car was almost upon the gallery; the wooden gates had been opened to allow the car through. They garnered only a few curious stares from passerbys before the gate clicked shut once more; clearly the British public was less inclined to be observant (or nosy) when the temperature had a minus in front of it and it was dark outside.

Arthur, and only because he knew exactly where to look, could see a number of dark shapes crouc hed in various places around the site. The clean, modern lines of the building’s extension rose up into the night, giving the new gallery such a sense of grandeur it almost decimated any idea that there could be anything evil lurking within.

Elyan, after parking the car just inside the gate, got out first, with only a nod to Arthur.

“Leon,” Arthur spoke quickly, stilling the other guard’s progress in following suit, “if anyone asks just tell them you can’t reveal the source that tipped you off about this place. Just get that  _thing_  out here as quickly as you can.”

“Of course, Arthur,” Leon replied as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I mean it,” Arthur added vehemently. “Don’t even tell Elyan.”

Leon’s frown increased. “Arthur, nobody will know unless you tell them. But you’re goin g to have to work out what you’re going to report to the King, and the Council, for that matter. You’ll have to brief them tonight.”

 _If all goes well_ , Arthur added silently.

Leon nodded once more before he too was gone, a succession of clicks echoing through the car a second later when the locks engaged.

“Well, this is fun,” Merlin murmured. Arthur could tell he was going for light-hearted sarcasm, but was failing miserably.

“Trapped in a car with Arthur Pendragon,” the prince grinned. “I think that was on one of those ‘wish lists’ in a teen magazine.”

Merlin smirked at that. “Excuse me if I don’t swoon like an adolescent.”

Arthur laughed, then covered his mouth quickly. “I’m not quite sure laughing is appropriate right now.”

Merlin was tapping his foot on the floor, clearly not able to still his muscles as successfully as Arthur.

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?” Arthur had gone back to looking out the window, but the darkness of the night and the silence of Leon’s team made it impossible to figure out what’s going on.

“Do you think whoever did all this is actually in there?” Merlin pointed vaguely towards the building.

Arthur knew what Merlin was really asking –  _Do you think this is a trap?_  He ignored the silent question, and went only with what was voiced. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d be surprised if they’d just leave that creature behind though, wouldn’t you?”

Merlin remained silent.

A faint popping sound a few seconds later pulled Arthur out of his quiet contemplation.

" _Fuck_ ,” the prince swore, one hand already reaching for the door handle.

Merlin’s head snapped towards Arthur’s immediately. “Was that a gunshot?”

Arthur nodded.

“Arthur, you can’t go in there.”

“I know,” Arthur replied, his heart hammering. “I know. Fuck, but I can’t just sit here.”

“If you go, I go,” Merlin replied steadily.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Arthur  _could_  get out of the car and follow his men into that building, but with the certainty that Merlin would be there too. And Christ, that thought terrified him; he didn’t want Merlin anywhere near this place as it was.

“People will have noticed won’t they?” Merlin asked after Arthur remained silent. “People in the park, I mean.”

“Probably,” Arthur conceded as he ran a hand over his jaw, “but Leon will have alerted enough relevant people to ensure we don’t get the police arriving. Plus, he’ll have enough team members out in the park making sure the public doesn’t get too close.”

“Didn’t quite have to worry about this in Ealdor,” Merlin muttered as he went back to scanning the surrounding area for any clue as to what was going on inside the gallery, but it was all silent again.

Arthur flinched slightly at Merlin’s words. Perhaps it was the stress of the moment, perhaps it was because he bloody well wanted to sit down and have a cup of tea for the first time since throwing himself out of bed to the news of an intruder at Cambridge Place; but whatever it was it left him taking Merlin’s words to heart as happily as a mace to the head. “So you regret this then?”

And it was only on voi cing the words that Arthur realised that while Merlin might be the one joking about not being a swooning adolescent, it was Arthur who was acting like an immature idiot.

“Sorry,” Arthur said quickly, before Merlin had even had time to open his mouth for a reply. “Sorry, being stupid.”

“Do you think they’re okay?” Merlin was clearly taking the route of ‘ignoring stupid things Arthur says via sense and reason’.

Arthur nodded in reply. “Leon will make sure of it.”

Something slammed into the car, and both occupants looked at each other in horror.

The front passenger door opened and Leon all but threw himself into the car.

“Fucking hell,” Leon gasped as he clutched what looked suspiciously like a pet carrier to his chest.

Arthur was almost so surprised by Leon actually swearing that it took him a couple of blinks to realised what was going on. “Fuck, is that it?”

From inside the carrier came an unnerving hissing sound, more like a snarl than anything else. Multiple pairs of beady eyes stared back at Arthur, a horrible feeling of being sized-up coming over the prince as the many heads of the Fomorroh batted angrily against the Perspex door of their prison.

“Well?” Arthur turned to Merlin, who was also looking in disgust at the Fomorroh.

“Jesus,” Leon groaned. “I really don’t know how long this will contain it.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and he couldn’t keep a horribly inappropriate laugh from bursting out.

“What?” Merlin asked, giving Arthur a look that plainly said  _‘are you fucking insane?’_

“Is that the trave l carrier for that foul little whelp Morgana had the nerve to call a dog?” Arthur pointed at the cage.

“Yes,” Leon hissed, “apparently it was all that was available on short notice, and Arthur, I don’t know how fucking long this thing is going to stay in here.”

Merlin, having decided that he wasn’t going to wait for Arthur to stop having a small mental episode, held a hand out towards the box and allowed a jumble of words to tumble over his lips.

Arthur’s breath hitched when Merlin’s blue eyes momentarily flared with a gold that spoke of ancient power. He just about caught Leon swallowing heavily out of the corner of his eye.

The Fomorroh puffed out of existence with a strangled shriek, leaving only a slight crack in the Perspex to suggest it had ever been there in the first place.

Merlin was looking expectantly at Arthur, silently waiting  _just in case_ the prince wouldn’t look back. Arthur turned immediately. “Well done,” he said softly, just the slightest trace of a smile on his lips as Merlin released a breath of relief.

Another faint ‘pop’ caused Arthur to start. “Fuck, Leon, what’s going on in there?” He’d been so wrapped up in the appearance of the Fomorroh that he’d allowed himself to forget that there was possible something far more deadly luring inside the gallery.

“Elyan’s taken a team down to the cellars, “ Leon replied, carelessly dropping the carrier into the backseat and clambering into the driver’s seat. “It’s a bit of a warren down there.”

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, frowning as Leon turned the key in the ignition.

“You got rid of the creature, Arthur,” Leon said, quickly pull ing the gearstick into reverse so quickly that even the famed German engineering whined in protest, “and that’s all you were here to do. Neither of those gunshots were ours, Arthur, so I’m sorry I’m pulling rank and taking you out of here.”

Arthur didn’t even have time to snap at Leon’s cavalier response before the car was reversing out of the immediately opened gates into the Park, a number of the security team holding passerbys on the pavement in order to prevent anyone actually being run over.

The car turned away from the direction of the Palace.

“Where the fuck are we going, Leon?” Arthur scrambled to fasten his seatbelt as usually careful Leon took a turn much faster than anyone anticipated. “I need to brief my father.”

“Which you can do from St James’,” Leon replied, glancing quickly in the rearview mirror.

“ _St James’?_ ” Arthur squawked, and yes, thank you very much, he  _was_  allowed to be undignified in that moment. “Jesus bloody Christ, Leon, what aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t understand,” Merlin interjected.

“St James’ is the designated Safe House for when a particular threat has been made against the family and Clarence House isn’t deemed secure enough-“ Arthur cut himself off as a thought occurred to him. “What about Morgana? Is she okay?”

“Morgana is safe at Clarence House,” Leon confirmed.

“Then why am  _I_ being taken to St James’?” Arthur would admit that maybe that came out a little more shrieky than necessary.

“Because you’re the heir to the throne!” Leon snapped. “And we’re not actually going to St James’ for your benefit, Arthur. I’m tak ing you there for Merlin’s sake.”

Arthur was stunned; both by Leon actually yelling at him (annoyance and irritation aside Leon had never outright berated Arthur in the eight years they’d worked together) and at the dawning sense of realisation. The magic user’s target really was Merlin.Up until that moment he hadn’t quite allowed himself to believe that someone was solely on the hunt for  _Merlin_.

“Why would you say that?” Arthur inwardly cringed at the overtly defensive tone of his own voice. He pointedly refused to look at Merlin. Arthur felt as though a very comfortable rug had been pulled from under his feet.

“Because-“

Arthur didn’t find out how Leon’s sentence was supposed to end. Instead the car swerved dramatically to the right, just as they exited the park onto a horrendously busy Bayswater. Leon swearing as he fo ught to keep control of the heavy vehicle, car horns tooting in surprise as they were suddenly faced with Leon on the wrong side of the road.

“What the fuck is going on?” Arthur shouted as his head collided painfully with the window. He turned to look at Merlin, who was staring intently at something through the window. The car pulled back into the correct lane, but Arthur didn’t feel it would be wise to breathe just yet.

The car slowed suddenly and Arthur would have missed the flash of gold in Merlin’s eyes completely if he hadn’t caught the reflection in the window.

“Merlin?” Arthur reached over to grab Merlin’s shoulder, but Merlin wriggled away when Arthur found himself restrained by the seatbelt. “Merlin, what are you doing?” A bottomless pit had opened somewhere in Arthur’s chest, his heart careening into it as Merlin opened the door and managed to scramble out o nto the tarmac as the car continued to inch forward at a snail’s pace.

Arthur wrestled with his seatbelt, but the more he grappled with the webbing the tighter it pulled against his chest, trapping him in the car. He turned his head to see Merlin just before the door closed behind him with only a whispered  _sorry_  before he hopped onto the pavement.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled as he saw the other boy look up momentarily, just before the clouds opened as if summoned, a deluge of water falling out of the sky as the first peal of thunder rocked central London.

“Leon, stop the car!” Arthur shouted. “Merlin!”

“I can’t!” The car sped up, blue lights lighting up the dashboard as sirens kicked in, wailing horribly as they moved away from Merlin.

Arthur turned his head to look out through the back window. The traffic w as all moving normally and people were hurrying towards shelter and home; anywhere to get away from the fat, icy droplets that obscured Arthur’s view.

The one thing the inclement weather couldn’t obscure was the image of Merlin standing on one side of the road, opposite someone who seemed to be staring straight back at him.

“Fuck, Leon, stop the car!” Arthur yelled again. “Jesus Christ!”

“I can’t, Arthur!” Leon repeated himself, a slight hysterical edge to his usually composed voice. “I can’t actually slow down.”

“Oh, God,” Arthur’s voice was suddenly quiet and hollow. It was Merlin. It had to be. He’d told Arthur he was crap with technology, and yet somehow he’d managed to get a bloody car to drive away, apparently of its own accord.

“Arthur, I’m sorry.” Leon winced as the car sped through a red light, mercifully not colliding with anything, or anyone, as it continued its predestined journey to wherever Merlin was sending them.

 _Merlin_.

* * *

“Slowing the car down was a nice touch! It almost looked normal!”

The shout from across the road was almost gleeful. Merlin held a hand to his chest, trying to calm the hammering he could feel there.

Arthur was going to fucking kill him. Of that he was certain.

Well as certain as he could be when he was facing an unknown entity over a constant flow of traffic on what genuinely appeared to be one of the busiest roads in England.

Merlin turned and ran, ducking up the street just opposite where Leon had exited Hyde Park. Merlin wasn’t hugely familiar with this part of London, but right now he’d do whatever it took to get whoever the hell  _that_  was away from people.

His feet pounded off the pavement as icy rainwater dribbled down his face. The rain hadn’t been his most inspired i dea, but it had been an instinctual one; at least it had caused most pedestrians to hurry away from the area as fast as their little umbrella-covered selves could carry them.

Sadly, Merlin wasn’t in possession of an umbrella. What he was in possession of was a pair of jeans that the rain was plastering to his legs with every step he took. The denim was pinching his calves uncomfortably as he ran, only half hoping that the demented magic user of earlier was following him.

As Merlin reached a junction he almost fell over in relief at the sight of a garden in front of him. Merlin’s extensive knowledge of gardens in London streets, courtesy of  _Notting Hill_ (which he would happily admit to knowing every line from…except to Arthur. He wouldn’t tell Arthur) suggested to him that this was going to be a private garden. A garden for which Merlin didn’t have a key or a password or whatever the bloody hell he'd need. It was also a bloody  _round_ garden and he couldn’t immediately see a gate anyone.

He jogged to the left, clutching at the stitch that had flared in his side.  _Come on, Emrys, come on._  Merlin’s gaze finally fixed on a gate to the garden; his eyes narrowed as he took in the notice:

 **PRIVATE GARDEN**  
KEY HOLDERS ONLY

 **No Dogs**  
No Ball Games  
No Unsupervised Children  
  


Merlin was neither dog nor child, and he certainly wasn’t intending to have a nice game of catch with the man who was out to kill him; so really he was only breaking one rule when he very awkwardly clambered over the iron gate, his shin slamming into one of the bars. He bit down on his lip to stem the howl of pain threatening to well out of him, tasting blood on his tongue.

The garden was, thankfully, deserted; the rain obviously working to drive people into their homes on what had already been a sub-zero January evening. The hedge and trees around the perimeter of the garden should be enough to keep anything mostly hidden from view – Merlin hoped this would work in his favour and not just make it easier for someone to kill him and then bugger off into the darkening twilight without a trace.

“You don’t look particularly dea dly.”

Merlin froze. It was the same voice that had shouted at him outside the Park. He turned his head to the left.

A man with dark skin and a beard was sitting on a bench. He looked for all the world as if he was waiting for a friend. One arm slung casually over the back of the bench as he grinned at Merlin.

“But then again,” the man continued, “appearances can be quite deceiving. Can’t they, Merlin?

Merlin frowned. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Myror, I suppose,” the man replied, his grin becoming a lazy smile. “IF I told you my real name I’d have to kill you. Oh wait…” He held up his hands as if he’d made a terrible error, before laughing.

Merlin didn’t laugh. “Why are you trying to kill me?”

Myror shrugged. “I’ve been paid to.” At Merlin’s silence he continued. “I don’t ask  _why_ , Merlin, I just do my job and collect my fee. You can understand that can’t you?”

“Who wants me dead?” Merlin tried not to consider how ridiculous those words sounded outside of a big-budget action film.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” Myror shook his head. “I’m really pleased you managed to avoid death by magic trick though. It makes my life a lot more interesting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The snake thing?” Myror asked. “Voodoo-ey mind control? Not really my style. But I was told to try that first. Apparently you’d like the er… _familiarity_ of it all. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“You don’t have magic?” Merlin asked, puzzle pieces clicking into place, but still giving nothing more than an abstract image.

“Magic?” Myror laughed. “No, no. I like to rely on good old-fashioned workmanship.”

Merlin had now seen enough guns to recognised the glint on metal as Myror extracted the weapon from inside his jacket.

What  _was_  it with people getting mixed up in magic resorting to firepower? Merlin made a mental note to dwell on that further….if he survived.

 _When_  he survived this. And yes, that correction did sound a bit like Arthur in his head.

“You’re too young to be messing with these people, Merlin,” Myror did actually look slightly guilty then. “But it’s not my job to judge.”

Merlin flicked his wrist in the hope of sending the gun sailing into the undergrowth.

Myror only twitched, an almost-delighted smile creeping over his face.

“Oh, yeah,” Myror said, “I probably should have mentioned that they told me you might try something clever. Thought I’d need a bit of protection. I’ve got a nice little shield over here, so your little magic tricks won’t work, I’m afraid.”

 _Fuck_ , Merlin thought.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay, **think**_ **.** If magic wouldn’t work on Myror, perhaps Merlin could…yes- he spotted the heavy, overhanging branch of the tree closest to Myror. He concentrated on where it joined the main trunk, and with a quick flash of his eyes he watched it hurtle towards a surprised Myror.

But Myror remained standing and the branch whistled harmlessly over his head.

Merlin was so surprised that he almost missed the moment Myror fired. He held his hands up in front of him, his face scrunching into concentration as he s earched his mind and soul for something,  _anything_ , that would halt the bullet’s progress.

Golden threads burst up from the ground beneath his feet and Merlin chanced a proper look in front of him. The bullet was suspended in mid-air, caught between the shining tendrils of light. Merlin sighed slightly and immediately the threads loosened.

 _Fuck!_  His guard went up immediately and the bullet halted uncomfortably close to his chest.

Myror fired again and Merlin willed himself to be able to maintain his defence. The threads were holding, but Merlin could feel energy sapping from him with every second that passed. When he wobbled slightly, the threads did too; he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to duck in time if he loosened the threads to let the bullets continue on their path. Not to mention he’d once more be a sitting target for Myror.

The third gunshot surpr ised Merlin so much that his magic hissed in rage around him. The strength of his reaction pushed the golden threads forwards as they wove together to create a sturdy barrier. The bullets dropped to the ground a second later.

Merlin released the breath he’d been holding as his vision swam before his eyes. He vaguely registered the fact Myror was sprawled facedown a few metres away before his own knees buckled and he hit the ground, his nose pressing uncomfortably into the soaking grass beneath him.

 _Oh God, have I been shot?_  Merlin thought drowsily as he felt his strength ebbing away. But even in the haze threatening to overtake his senses Merlin didn’t feel any pain.

“Merlin!”

Someone was calling him?

“Merlin, can you hear me?”

He recognised the voice, he was sure of it. He was sure it was someone who wasn’t very happy with him.

“Tell Arthur he’s alive,” the voice said. "But I-"

 _Arthur_ , Merlin thought happily as his eyes decided they wanted to stay closed.  _Arthur, Arthur, A-_


	17. Chapter 17

“You look terrible.”

Arthur couldn’t bring himself to care about the sharpness of his father’s tone, or the fact his father was there at all. The prince was exhausted and when he ran a tired hand over his face realised that he  _still_ hadn’t shaved. The entire day had been chaos from start to finish – not that it was finished yet – and Arthur found it strangely fitting that he looked far from being a prince as he sat on the floor outside his own bedroom, one sleeve of his shirt coming away at the seams from when he’d thought it would be a good idea to try and barrel past Leon.

“Arthur.”

He forced himself to look up. Uther was standing stiff-backed and proud, in complete contrast to his dishevelled son. It wasn’t the first time that Arthur wondered if he had truly inherited anything of his appearance from his father, but the differe nces seemed so much more apparent in that moment than they ever had before.

“Arthur?” Uther’s voice had lost its cold edge and it was that that finally spurred the prince into blinking his way back to the present.

Arthur pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes for a long second, welcoming the slight discomfort after hours of numb limbs and a foot that had long since gone to sleep. Holding back a groan as his muscles protested at the sudden movement, Arthur hauled himself to his feet. His palms were itching from being pressed into the carpet for such a long time; each one covered in an array of pink and white splotches that probably wouldn’t fade for hours.

“I thought you were at Sandringham.” Arthur’s voice was scratchy from hours of silence. The shouting and raging of earlier probably also had something to do with it. He wished he’d accepted Maggie’s repeated offers of brandy – the sight of his father was unnerving him now that he was more alert.

Uther’s lip curled slightly. “Leon briefed me on the events of the evening. I suppose I have Mr Emrys to thank for saving your life once again.”

Arthur kept his mouth tightly closed. He hadn’t spoken to Leon about what the ‘official’ story was going to be; he’d already come up with a fairly convoluted (and mostly fabricated) explanation for what had happened, but that was now clearly sidelined in favour of whatever Leon had fed to the king as the truth. Hopefully Uther wouldn’t press the issue too much before Arthur had a chance to plug the gaps in his story.

“Arthur,” Uther sighed, and just for a moment his composure seemed to slip; the lines around his eyes were more prominent and the set of his shoulders drooped towards a slouch rarely seen on the king. But then he was righting himse lf; his only allowance of comfort was a quick pat on Arthur’s shoulder before he cleared his throat. “I take it Mr Emrys’ condition is not too serious.”

Arthur swallowed heavily. “ _Merlin_ ,” he emphasised the name in defiance of Uther’s formal expression, “is suffering the effects of exhaustion. Doctor Ashburn has suggested rest over the weekend, but he should be fine by Monday.”

“Exhaustion?” Uther asked, frowning. “What does that boy have to be exhausted from?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Arthur scoffed, anger flaring instantly, “perhaps it’s that he’s not sleeping properly. I imagine he also might find having a lifetime’s worth of protocol forced down his throat quite stressful.  _Oh_ ,” and Arthur was aware that the amount of petulance in his tone was reaching critical mass, “and just maybe it’s because he was almost killed tonight.” p>

Uther, to his credit, actually looked genuinely surprised by the strength of his son’s outburst. Arthur, sadly, was too busy catching his breath to notice and revel in the rare display.

“Arthur, I expect a full report of the events of the last twenty-four hours,” Uther said eventually. “From  _you_.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but then his father’s hand was back on his shoulder and the comfort of the prolonged touch was enough to stun him into silence.

“You will come to me tomorrow morning,” Uther clarified. “You should get some sleep now.”

Arthur shook his head, gesturing towards his bedroom door. “I’ve been locked out,” he admitted before he could filter his words. Doctor Ashburn had decided it would be best if Merlin was left alone to sleep, but it was Leon who’d locked the door and told Arthur it was 'in Merlin’s best interests.’ Arthur hadn’t quite agreed with Leon…and that had resulted in the mangled shirt.

“Arthur, there are  _nine_  guest bedrooms in this house,” Uther replied. He still handed retracted his hand. “I’m sure that Mr Emrys… _Merlin_  will be absolutely fine without you standing guard outside his door.”

Arthur was so surprised by Uther’s use of Merlin’s name that he almost missed it when his father added, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, “I do understand your concern, Arthur.”

The prince eventually nodded; what else could he do? A tiny glimpse of compassion from his father was enough to floor him. God, what did that say about the state of Arthur’s life right then?

Uther, obviously uncomfortable (he wasn’t the only one), gave a sharp nod before turning away and leaving Arthur alone in the hall way once more.

Arthur braced his arms against the wall as he sagged in relief, resting his forehead against the cool wallpaper as he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He had come to one conclusion in his mind, and it was disconcerting to say the least:

Uther had come back to London because he was concerned about Arthur. Concerned even though it hadn’t been Arthur who was hurt. Concerned even though it was  _Merlin_ who had been in danger.

Soft footsteps alerted Arthur to another presence and he sluggishly pushed himself away from the wall.

“Here.”

Arthur blinked in surprise when Leon held out a key. “What’s this?” he asked, and it was a stupid question because he knew very well that it was the key to his bedroom door.

Leon just looked at him silently and proffered the key towards him again. Arthur took it with a nod and a grateful smile.

“A meeting at Buckingham at nine-thirty has just gone into your diary,” Leon said just before Arthur reached his door. “Get some sleep. It’s already after one.”

“I think I’ll go for a run before breakfast,” Arthur looked directly at Leon, hoping to convey his wish for a private conversation away from the palace walls. “I’ll see you at seven.”

Leon, due to years of interpreting the true meaning behind the prince’s comments, nodded immediately. “Of course.” He turned away before pausing and looking back at Arthur. “Tell Merlin I’m glad he’s alright.”

“I will,” Arthur said quietly. He turned the key in the lock and slipped into his darkened bedroom as quietly as he could, pushing the door closed as softly as possible behind him.

Merlin w as thankfully foregoing the melodramatic cliché of looking ‘still as death’ or anything of the like, and Arthur was enormously grateful for that. Merlin looked as he always did when he was asleep; one arm above his head, clearly thrown up there in abandon at some point, and his face half squashed in the pillow beneath him.

Arthur discarded his trousers in the middle of the floor and pulled his loosened tie over his head as he headed around to the other side of the bed. He couldn’t quite say ‘empty side of the bed’ as Merlin had a tendency to sprawl; Arthur had a secret theory that there might be some starfish genes in their somewhere.

His fingers were still tingling slightly from the carpet-based torture he’d subjected them to and he gave up on trying to undo the buttons on his shirt as he pulled the covers back and got into bed as stealthily as he could manage.

Merlin didn’ t even twitch.

The soft glow from the lamp on Arthur’s bedside table was the only light source in the room, but it was enough for Arthur, now that he was closer, to see the strain on Merlin’s face – evident even in sleep. His lips were slightly pursed as he breathed quietly, and the purple marks under his eyes were far more pronounced now than they had been when Merlin had drowsily stumbled into the palace, one arm hanging around Elyan’s shoulders.

Arthur’s hand reached involuntarily for Merlin, but he stopped himself, curling his fingers back into his palm as he closed his eyes with a sigh. The sense of relief he’d expected to feel when Elyan had finally called to say that he’d found Merlin still hadn’t appeared. The tight coil of worry was still present in his chest, and he knew that the slight tremble to his fingers wasn’t entirely due to the pins and needles wearing off.

What if Elyan had been a few seconds slower in tracking Merlin’s location? What if there’d been a bit more traffic on the road that had slowed him down? What if Elyan had missed his target and Merlin had been hit? What if Elyan had balked at Merlin’s obvious display of magic and alerted the King?

What if-

“Stop it.”

Merlin’s order was mostly mumbled into a pillow, but it still caused Arthur’s eyes to snap open in surprise.

“I’m trying to sleep,” Merlin continued, a drowsy slur to his words as his eyes remained closed, “and I can hear you panicking.”

“I’m not panicking,” Arthur hissed in reply, which wasn’t really what he’d wanted to say. He’d wanted to say something along the lines of  _Thank God you’re alright, you bloody minded git. Do you realise you scared me half to death…again? Do you know what it would do to me if you died? I love you, you idiot,_ but it appeared his mouth had other ideas.

“Yes, you are,” Merlin cracked open one eye and stared at Arthur.

The prince wanted to be angry, but he’d alleviated himself of most of his rage in his ill-advised (and horribly unsuccessful) altercation with Leon earlier. Instead he shook his head slightly and turned over so that his back was to Merlin. Completely immature, yes, but Arthur refused to come undone in the way he knew he would if Merlin kept  _looking at him_  like that; all fondness and unspoken apologies.

There was complete stillness in the room for a long time and Arthur was sure that Merlin had fallen asleep again. He was just about to turn over again – the need to visually check that Merlin was still there overwhelming in comparison to his need to display irritation over Merlin’s actions – when he felt a sigh of breath against the back of his neck. He shivered when a feather-light brush of lips followed.

“Are you asleep, Arthur?” Merlin asked in barely a whisper.

Arthur considered staying silent. He also, and he’d be ashamed to admit this, considered saying ‘yes’ in what would no doubt be his best impression of a recalcitrant teenager.

“No,” he eventually replied, opting not to go with neither of his original ideas. “But I’m not the one under doctor’s orders.” With that he rolled over, forcing Merlin to move back slightly. He crooked his elbow, propping his head up with the back of his hand so he was looking down to where Merlin’s head had returned to the pillow.

“I’m sorry about leaving,” Merlin said quietly. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have told me what your plan was.” Arthur kept his voice as level as possible, but he couldn’t quite restrain the sense of bitter defeat that had been coursing through his veins since Merlin had fist stepped out of the car.

“I didn’t really have one,” Merlin admitted softly. “But there were too many people around and I thought he had magic. I couldn’t be sure wh-“

“Wait, “ Arthur frowned, his free hand pressing gently against Merlin’s shoulder, “what do you mean you  _thought_  he had magic?”

“That man,” Merlin swallowed loudly, “Myror he said his name was, he didn’t have magic, Arthur. He was working for someone who does.”

Arthur pushed himself up and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “So whoever was controlling that creature is still out there somewhere.”

Merlin nodded.

“Which mea ns you’re still a target,” Arthur replied. “ _Fuck_.”

“Arthur,” Merlin grimaced as he slowly sat up and leaned against the headboard, “you’re a target every day of your life. This isn’t any different.”

Arthur’s eyes widened in incredulity. “This is completely fucking different, Merlin.” The words came out much more harshly than he’d anticipated. “I was born into this. This isn’t supposed to be your life.”

Merlin folded his arms. “Well you should have thought of that before you invited me into your little world.”

The prince flinched. He hadn’t meant it like that, not in a way that would end up with Merlin glaring at him. “I didn’t…” he trailed off, hugely tempted to give in to the urge to smother himself with a pillow. He’d failed at irritation, and he’d felt at an explanation. Perhaps it was time for hea rt-wrenching honesty.

“Do you know what it’s like being left behind?” Arthur asked, immediately feeling that his voice sounded too small all of a sudden. “If I run off and do something stupid at least you can probably guess what that ‘something stupid’ is going to be. But with you…” he waved his hand, momentarily unsure of how to voice his thoughts.

“With you,” Arthur continued, “I never know what you’re going to do, and I  _have to know,_ Merlin. I have so little control over most of my life, the only way I can stand it is knowing what’s coming next, and you just don’t let me do that.”

“You can’t know everything, Arthur.” Merlin gingerly pushed the prince’s hair back from his forehead. “Besides…there’s always going to be threats against us, isn’t there?”

“What do you mean?”

Merlin shifted so that he was sitting closer to Arthur. “In six months you’re going to have to make a decision.”

Arthur opened his mouth, but Merlin briefly rested his fingers against his lips to shush him. Merlin then actually said  _shush_.

“I know you know what I’m talking about, Arthur.”

Arthur wanted to protest again. No, he didn’t bloody well  _know_  what Merlin was talking about. What decision?

“Look,” Merlin continued, and looked discomfited enough to keep Arthur quiet, “your life is going to be very difficult if I’m in it. Oh my God, that’s like a line from a soap opera,  _bugger_ …but you know what I mean. At least I hope you do.”

Merlin trailed off, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. Arthur considered saying something,  _anything_ th at would get Merlin to hurry up and make his point.

“There are going to be people, possibly  _a lot_  of people, who won’t be happy with the choice you’ve made,” Merlin explained haltingly, “and they’ll make it known. If you’re going to spend the rest of your life worrying about me every time someone makes a threat you’re not really going to have much time for anything else. There’ll always be threats against you, and probably me.”

Arthur blinked.

“Shit,” Merlin breathed, eyes widening at Arthur’s continued silence, “have I got that completely wrong? Oh God, have I just transplanted myself into a TV drama where everyone who loves the prince is in danger beca-“

Arthur was the one to employ the ‘silence the other with your hand on their lips’ trick this time. “Merlin, what in the name of all things sacred goes on in that h ead of yours?” Arthur sighed. “Jesus, are you actually telling me that you think people will try to kill you for being my boyfriend, so I really shouldn’t worry about tonight’s assassin because there’ll be more anyway?”

Merlin looked slightly sheepish. “Yes?”

Arthur was torn between horrified-amusement and just plain horror. “Merlin, that is  _absurd_. Bloody hell, what the fuck goes on in that mind of yours?”

“Well…”

“And what do you mean ‘make a choice’?” Arthur waved his hands around, momentarily making quote marks with his index fingers – something that annoyed him no end when other people did it.

Merlin looked entirely sheepish now, as if he’d said something he hadn’t quite meant to voice  _just_  in that moment.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Merlin, are you labouring under the misapprehension that I’m going to change my mind about you because I might want an  _easier_  life?”

Merlin twisted his lips. “Well, it sounds a bit stupid when you put it like that.”

“Yes, it does,  _doesn’t it_?” Arthur’s eyes widened again as he shook his head. “And what does that say about the person whose idea it was in the first place?”

The pink tinge to Merlin’s cheeks was obvious even in the weak light.

Arthur laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was as though every muscle in his body suddenly relaxed; the knot of despair that had twisted itself around his heart finally unravelled leaving him with an almost unbearable sense of lightness.

It wasn’t until Merlin lightly pressed a fingertip to his face that Arthur realised his laughter might just have given way to a surge of emotion he really didn’t want to deal with.

So he ignored the sudden awareness of the damp trails on his cheeks, instead surging forwards to wrap his fingers around the back of Merlin’s neck, leaving no gap between their foreheads as he struggled to catch his breath.

Merlin didn’t make it past the first syllable of Arthur’s name before the prince pressed their lips together. There was no timidity to this kiss; this was Arthur proving a point, and when Arthur Pendragon wanted to prove a point…well, the world should be ready for him.

There was no resistance from Merlin past the initial hiss of surprise.

“You should be sleeping,” Arthur whispered as he pressed kisses along Merlin’s jaw, the fingers of his left hand curling into the hem of Merlin’s t-shirt. “You should be sleeping.”

“I don’t want to," Merlin mumbled softly, dropping his head back when Arthur nipped at the exposed collarbone just visible at the edge of his collar.

Arthur dropped his forehead to Merlin’s shoulder, breathing hard as he once more fought a tightening in his throat. “You can’t keep trying to get yourself killed, Merlin.” His fingers slipped up into Merlin’s hair, grasping at the strands as if he could keep them both safe and anchored in that bed forever. “You just can’t.”

“I’m sorry.” And oh God, now Merlin’s voice sounded thick with emotion and Arthur knew he couldn’t look at him right then.

Instead Arthur pulled back, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Merlin’s chest as he reached down to pull the t-shirt up over Merlin’s head. Merlin didn’t protest, just lifted his arms wearily before dropping back onto the pillow; his own hands grappling with the buttons of Arthur’s shirt as the prince himself had done earlier.

“Bloody buttons,” Merlin muttered, fumbling as he tried to undo the second one; the first having clearly undone through a stroke of luck.

Arthur batted Merlin’s hands away and wrenched the still buttoned-up shirt over his head, only mildly choking himself as he did so. There was an obnoxiously loud ripping sound as Arthur pulled his hands through the cuffs and he winced internally as that really did make the shirt beyond repair.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered as he reached out to try and tilt Arthur’s face up so he could see him properly.

The prince resisted gallantly, focusing instead on planting a knee either side of Merlin’s hips. His mind was reeling; the awful  _what if_ questions had returned, plaguing him with a fuelled intensity with every action he took to forget them.

Â “Arthur, look at me.” Merlin’s voice had risen slightly in volume and he tried to grasp Arthur’s face between his hands.

Ducking his head quickly enough to avoid being ensnared, Arthur reached out to grasp Merlin’s hands in his own, twining their fingers together before placing them either side of Merlin’s head. He dropped his head to his chest, doing his best to ignore the burning sensation in his eyes.

 _Fuck_ , he was  **not** going to fall apart again. There’d been enough of that. They’d got past this stage. Jesus bloody Christ, was that him shaking like a leaf?

“Okay, no, you’re not ignoring me now,” Merlin mumbled, yanking Arthur’s hands, and his own, up over his head, bringing Arthur down heavily on top of him.

The breath Arthur hadn’t realised he was holding whooshed from his lungs as he collided with the body beneath him. Merlin pulled his hands free to wrap his arms around Arthur’s back before shifting enough that they were both lying on their sides.

Arthur buried his face into Merlin’s neck.

“Jesus, Arthur.” Merlin’s hands were continuously moving, up and down Arthur’s back, into his hair, down his arm and back again. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

But it wasn’t okay, was it? For twenty years his life had been fairly straightforward – well, as straightforward as it was ever going to be for a prince in an active monarchy – and then Merlin came along and all hell broke loose. For everyone’s sake, it might have been better if his path hadn’t crossed with Merlin’s.

Arthur immediately scolded himself for the thought. He hadn’t exactly been thrilled with his life before a lanky student literally crashed into him on a day that hadn’t bee n noteworthy in any other way. And Fate would have ensured a meeting anyway, wouldn’t it?

Merlin was an inevitability, and Arthur was more than happy with that fact. But Merlin had a point, didn’t he? Could Arthur allow himself to let Merlin become even more of a target for renegades or, worse perhaps, a community of magic users hell bent on repeating events of the past?

“Stop thinking,” Merlin whispered as he kissed Arthur’s forehead. “Just stop thinking, Arthur.” He extracted his arm from where Arthur was crushing it into the mattress and used his hand to push Arthur onto his back.

Arthur took a deep breath and clamped his eyes shut as Merlin ran his thumbs along his cheekbones.

“You need to stop thinking,” Merlin’s voice grew softer as he left a trail of kisses along Arthur’s jaw, ghosting his lips down the prince’s neck to his chest. “Let go, Arthur.”

 _Let go_. Arthur took another deep breath as Merlin cont inued his journey down Arthur’s chest.

Arthur finally stopped thinking.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Morgana asked, sliding a glass of orange juice across the table towards Merlin.

“Yeah,” Merlin gave her a small smile, accepting the glass and taking a quick sip as Morgana’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Where’s Arthur this morning?” Morgana asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

Merlin pushed the untouched slice of toast to the other side of his plate, for once not minding so much when crumbs tumbled off the rim and onto the otherwise spotless table. “He went for a run with Leon.”

“And?”

Merlin frowned. “What do you mean, ‘ _and’_?

“Leon told me that my brother was sitting on the floor outside his bedroom until one o’clock this morning,” Morgana replied. “I can vouch for the fact he was s till there at ten when I went to bed. Merlin, he looked  _awful_.”

Merlin’s fingers tightened around his glass. “He’s okay. We…talked.” Actually there hadn’t been a huge amount of talking, but talking hadn’t felt very helpful or necessary at the time. However, Merlin would be lying if he said that Arthur had looked very happy when he’d eventually slipped out of the room just before seven. The only positive was that the prince had pressed a lingering kiss to Merlin’s bare shoulder before he’d left. Merlin, feeling enormously cowardly, had kept his eyes shut and pretended to sleep.

Morgana just kept looking at him.

“He’s worried about talking to your father,” Merlin sighed eventually, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not exactly going to be easy explaining away everything that happened yesterday.”

Morgana was sizing h im up, Merlin was certain of that fact. “You think you’ve made everything worse, don’t you?”

“No,” Merlin replied immediately, and if the vehemence of his response hadn’t been an admission of guilt he knew the heat rising on his cheeks would be.

“Oh, please tell me you’ve not reverted to your self-sacrificing selves?” Morgana sighed, but she didn’t look too annoyed.

“Not quite.”

Merlin jumped at Arthur’s voice, his knee bumping painfully on the underside of the table. “Ow.” He looked up.

Arthur was casually leaning against the doorframe. His hair was dishevelled and he was wearing the ratty old clothes he always wore when he went for a run. But the sight of a slight smile on his lips, and a healthy blush of colour on his face made Merlin’s spirits rise.

“Good morning,  _Morgana_ ,” Arthur rolled his eyes, walking into the room with no trace of the nervousness that had seemed to radiate from every pore earlier that morning.

Morgana frowned. “Why do you look freakishly calm?” She turned to Merlin. “What’s going on?”

Merlin shrugged helplessly. He was as surprised as Morgana.

“I’ve just had a very informative discussion with Leon,” Arthur said, ruffling his hair before he sat down next to Merlin and swiping the ignored toast.

“Right…” Merlin waited for an explanation, deciding to ignore the pilfered breakfast item – he hadn’t wanted it anyway.

“Our man from yesterday,” Arthur said, covertly grasping Merlin’s hand under the table and squeezing it, “left a trail of communications behind him. Leon thinks they’ll be able to tie it all together by the end of the week; find out exactly who’s behind all of this.”

Morgana frowned. “The end of the week?”

Arthur nodded. “It seems whoever this magic-user is resorted to more usual methods of communication to stay in touch with… Myror.”

Merlin heard the small gap before Arthur spoke the attempted-assassin’s name and squeezed his hand back in response. “Is he sure?”

Arthur nodded and took a bite of toast.

Morgana’s eyes narrowed again. “You really think it will be that simple?”

“I have no reason not to,” Arthur replied.

Merlin really wanted to believe in Arthur’s confidence, but there was a niggling feeling that suggested it really wasn’t going to be that simple. After all, it had never been simple before, had it?

Arthur drew Mer lin in for a kiss, obviously studiously ignoring the fact his sister was sitting  _right there_. “I have to go see my father,” he said as he pulled away.

Merlin nodded, avoiding meeting Morgana’s eye.

Arthur stood and looked to his sister. “Morgana, you can have Merlin until lunchtime, but he’s mine this afternoon.”

Merlin forgot his worry immediately. “Hey!” he swatted Arthur’s arm. “I’m not a bloody toy you two share, you know.”

“That’s fine,” Morgana wasn’t quite smiling. “Merlin will be an expert on table etiquette by then. You can test him over lunch.”

“Great,” Arthur smirked.

“Great,” Morgana replied.

 _Great_ , Merlin thought. He had no idea what he should be worrying about any more.

Wh at the hell was wrong with this family?


	18. Chapter 18

“This is genuinely the most uncomfortable chair I have ever sat it,” Merlin grumbled as he shifted around for what could have been the hundredth time in five minutes. “Where the bloody hell did you find it?”

“You can’t say  _bloody hell_  at the dinner table, Merlin,” Morgana admonished, rolling her eyes.

“You do it all the time,” Merlin retorted, shuffling forwards to rest his elbows on the table. “And don’t even get me started on the things Gwaine says.”

“Elbows!” Morgana swiped her arm viciously, knocking Merlin’s offending appendages off the tablecloth.

Merlin huffed out an irritated breath as his wrist hit the table, shaking the myriad of glasses and china enough to cause a few seconds of fragile jangling. “Jesus, Morgana, thanks for the warning. Why do we have to do this today?”

“ _Because_ ,” Morgana paused and looked at the table, “next month is February.”

“February comes after January?” Merlin asked in mock surprise. “How did I  _not_  know that already?”

Morgana’s head snapped up and she pursed her lips. “Do you know what’s special about February?”

Merlin frowned at Morgana’s sharp tone. “It’s my birthday?”

“Other than your birthday?” Morgana rolled her eyes again. “And I’m not talking about Valentine’s Day either.”

Merlin shook his head. He couldn’t think of anything particularly special about the month. “Not a clue.”

“Okay,” Morgana sighed, “we need to do a bit more work on Pendragon history.”

Merlin groaned; he tried to keep it internalised, but the thought of more hours spent poring over dusty books while Morgana rattled off names at two-hundred miles an hour did not fill him with joy.

“It’s the anniversary of Uther’s coronation,” Morgana explained, ignoring Merlin’s increasing distress. “He’ll have been King for twenty-nine years next month, and whilst that means the number of years isn’t special enough to warrant a public celebration, it does mean that there’ll be a dinner hosted in his honour at Buckingham.”

Merlin’s mouth went dry. “And you want me to go to it?”

Morgana laughed. “No, Merlin, I wouldn’t wish attending that dinner on anyone. I’ve had to attend since I was twelve, so trust me on that.”

Merlin sighed with relief. Too soon.

“ _However_ ,” Morgana stopped laughing and fixed Merlin with a severe stare, “it’s not down to me, and I’m sure that you will be invited as a ‘friend of the family.”

“Uther wouldn’t invite me to dinner,” Merlin shook his head. “Not now. Not when…” he trailed off with a wave of his hand.

“Uther  _will_  invite you, Merlin,” Morgana replied. “Of that you can be certain. He won’t admit it, but he’ll want to keep Arthur on side for as long as possible – he doesn’t want anyone but his son taking the crown after him, no matter how little he agrees with Arthur’s… _life choices_ , as it were.”

“But h-“

“ _And_ ,” Morgana cut him off with an imperious flick of her wrist, “Arthur won’t stand for you not being there. Uther will want to avoid any childish fits of temper – not that I wouldn’t agree with Arthur’s tantrums entirely, of course – so I have no doubt you’ll be paraded around as a guest of honour. It’ll be one of Uther’s many less-than-discreet ways of testing you.”

Merlin was horrified; a feeling that was descending on him on an almost daily basis now that he was once more caught in the web of the Pendragon dynasty. “Morgana, why the hell am I doing this?”

Morgana’s expressions softened immediately. “Because you’re a glutton for punishment?” She smiled slightly. “And perhaps because you’re silly enough to love my brother, even though I’m still not entirely sure he deserves you.”

Merlin ducked his head, embarrassed.

Morgana laughed. “You’re almost sickeningly cute at times, Merlin, and trust me when I say how much it damages my angry-girl pride to admit that.”

“Thanks, Morgana,” Merlin grinned as he tilted his head back up, “I love you too.”

“Lo ok,” Morgana smiled gently, “if it were up to me I’d have you and Arthur down the aisle at the Abbey so quickly not a single person in the country would have time to organise a street party.”

“ _Morgana!_ ” Merlin hissed, once more horrified at the direction this conversation was heading in. “Jesus, don’t say things like that. You might want to bear in mind that Arthur and I didn’t speak to each other for almost a year,  _and_ have technically only been ‘Arthur and I’ again for less than a fortnight.” He wished he’d never put his elbows on the table in the first place; right now Morgana should be yelling at him for selecting the wrong fork, not talking about…well,  _what she was talking about_.

Morgana just shook her head, wearing a fond smile that was awfully similar to her brother’s. “Ignoring the fact that destiny clearly wants you to be together, I think I can safel y say that Arthur has been arse over tit for you since you came to Sandringham. He’s never acted like such a twat over  _anyone_  before.”

Morgana was clearly ignoring her own rule of not swearing at the table, but Merlin felt it probably wouldn’t be wise to point that out.

“After… _you know_ ,” Morgana waved her hand, and Merlin assumed she was talking about Arthur and Merlin’s self-imposed exodus from each other after the Nimueh debacle, “Arthur reverted to his horrible former self.” She pursed her lips. “But he still wouldn’t hear a word said against you.”

Merlin frowned in surprise.

“I love my brother,” Morgana said quietly, eyes drifting towards the door as if afraid that Arthur would suddenly appear and hear her confession, “but I like him a hell of a lot less when he doesn’t have you in his life.

But at the end of the day, none of it is up to me, and it isn’t even up to Uther. You and Arthur make your own decisions about how you continue your relationship, but for the sake of everyone’s sanity even  _I_  am going to ask you to play along with Uther’s little game for the time being; and play it  _well_ , Merlin. Arthur will never escape every expectation set down by constitution and tradition, and if you’re intending to stick around then…there’s certain hoops you can’t avoid jumping through, I’m afraid.”

Merlin nodded, feeling as though he were promising Morgana something far greater than just trying to remember the correct etiquette for eating soup. “So…” he cleared his throat loudly. “There really is a correct way to fold a napkin?”

 

**ooOOoo**

“That looks very dainty, Merlin, well done.”

Merlin, completely at odds with everything Morgana had spend the last three hours haranguing him about, dropped his spoon onto the table as he whirled in surprise to see Arthur grinning at him.

 _Bugger_ , Merlin thought as he watched Arthur’s lazy smile grow. Arthur Pendragon was already irritatingly attractive enough without even trying, but when he looked genuinely delighted with something…well…if Merlin wasn’t already completely besotted with the prince, that particular smile would have been enough to tip him over the edge.

“Well, I think you just covered the Dutch ambassador in soup,” Morgana rolled her eyes as they had obviously reached the end of the horribly complicated dining scenario she had fabricated for Merlin’s benefit.

Merlin tried very valiantly not to sigh in relief. In his oddest dreams, and really Merlin had had his fair share of those, he’d never quite envisaged he’d be forced to play a twisted version of ‘tea party’ with an actual princess. And it was bloody hard work. He’d always thought knowing to use cutlery from the outside in would be enough to get him through life; this opinion had changed the minute Morgana had launched into an explanation of how to eat artichokes correctly. Merlin had informed her he didn’t actually like artichokes, so it would never be a problem. Morgana had simply retorted with _‘if someone gives you an artichoke, Merlin, you bloody well_   **eat** _the artichoke._ ’

“You look disgustingly happy for someone who’s just spent over three hours in Uther’s presence,” Morgana stated, scrunching her nose in distaste as Arthur continued to smirk from the door.

Arthur shrugged. “Agravai ne’s duties have been suspended pending an inquiry.”

“What?” Merlin launched out of his chair at the same time as Morgana.

Arthur’s smile grew. “The Sackler Gallery, because of its connection to The Serpentine, and also its proximity to the Palace, technically falls under the remit of the person in charge of London Residences.”

“Agravaine,” Morgana nodded slowly.

“So any security breach that went unnoticed would reflect badly on said person,” Arthur continued, folding his arms. “Particularly when it took a phone call from a member of the public to alert anyone to anything being wrong.”

Merlin frowned. “A member of the public?”

“A member of the public who called the police, who in turn, because they’re legally obliged to pass on security issues to the Kensington team, the n called in the report.”

“Which explains why Leon’s team were there,” Merlin said as the puzzle pieces began to snap together.”

Arthur grinned again. “It turns out Leon’s quite the puppet master.”

“What do you mean?” Morgana asked, and Merlin could have sworn that the princess looked more thrilled than she should have done. He really was going to have to talk to her properly about a certain bodyguard at some point.

“Leon called the police pretending to be a passerby just before we left Gaius’ house,” Arthur explained, finally making his way into the room and resting his hands on the back of the chair Merlin had previously occupied. “And a few minutes later he answered a call from the police alerting him to the possibility of an armed man hiding at the gallery.”

“That’s pretty brilliant,” Merlin br eathed.

“And entirely traceable,” Arthur replied. “It highlights the fact that Agravaine’s team hasn’t been sweeping the area as they should have been.”

“Do you think Agravaine’s connected to Myror?” Morgana asked, her hand automatically reaching out to wrap around Merlin’s wrist for a second.

“I don’t know.” Arthur’s smile dropped at that. “But I’ll find out. Even if he’s not involved with Myror, I’m certain he’s up to something.”

“Have you told Uther that?” Morgana asked.

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want him getting suspicious about the way Myror was tracked. Leon’s going to look into Agravaine and if he comes up with any evidence to tie him even remotely to this then we’ll take it straight to the King.”

“And how did you explain what happened to me?” Merlin asked, feeling awkward to be the one to ask that question.

“Leon actually told the truth about that,” Arthur replied, running a hand through his hair. “Told my father that you, rather stupidly, threw yourself out of the car in the hope that you’d become a legitimate target for the gunman and lead him away from the public.” Arthur paused and looked directly at Merlin. “And away from me.”

“Right,” Merlin nodded, not really sure what else he could say to that. Arthur was looking at him with the same intensity he’d possessed when he’d first come to bed the night before.

Morgana was looking between the pair of them; Merlin could see her out of the corner of his eye, and she looked as if she were enjoying an afternoon at Wimbledon.

“Right!” Morgana announced loudly. “I think that’s enough etiquette for this morning.” S he prodded Merlin in the arm until he looked at her. “I want to talk to you later about starting at the charity on Monday.”

Merlin nodded quickly before she walked away. God, in the midst of everything else he’d actually managed to forget about the fact he was supposed to start working for Morgana in a couple of days. And he’d be dammed if he could remember anything that Mordred had tried to brief him on.

“You look like you’re about to dissolve,” Arthur was the one who prodded Merlin in the arm that time.

“What?” Merlin asked, snapping out of his brain’s sudden decision to start listing the different ways to greet various people of importance.

“Are you alright, Merlin?” Arthur’s face shifted into an expression of genuine concern, and he leaned closer to inspect Merlin’s face.

“I’m fine,” Merlin wave d his hand, only slightly wearily. “I feel much better today. Just don’t tell that doctor that I’ve ignored his order to stay in bed.”

“We can go back to bed,” Arthur grinned cheekily, the tip of his tongue just poking out between his teeth.

“And  _rest_ , Arthur,” Merlin rolled his eyes and tried to stop his mouth curling into a smile. “Stay in bed and  _rest_.”

Arthur’s smile dropped and he bit his lip. “I’m sorry…about last night.” He shrugged sheepishly.

Merlin shook his head minutely, leaning to rest their foreheads together. He allowed his eyes to drift shut, and took a moment to just breathe.

It was Arthur who closed the final gap between them to capture Merlin’s top lip between his own. Merlin sighed, smiling slightly as he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist, pulling him close r.

“Mmph,” Arthur mumbled, pulling away after a second.

“Hmm?” Merlin asked, their noses bumping together as they only half-opened their eyes.

“As much-“ Arthur cut himself off to snatch another kiss. “As I’d like-”  _Kiss._ “To stay here all day.” Arthur pulled back again so Merlin could see him without going cross-eyed. “I actually have a plan.”

“You have a plan?” Merlin grinned. “I think I’m supposed to worry when  _you_  have plans, aren’t I?”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur smiled. “You should be focusing on the fact that my father might have had to admit that what you did yesterday does actually fit the widely-accepted definition of heroic.”

“You want me to focus on your father  _now_?” Merlin smirked.

“Oh m y God,” Arthur pushed him away, sticking his tongue out as he curled his lips into a look of distaste. “You actually said that. Jesus, Merlin, you really do know how to ruin a moment.”

“Sorry,” Merlin was still smiling as he pressed himself close to Arthur once more, “I wasn’t aware we were having a  _moment_.”

“I’m not sure whether to be offended or…”Arthur trailed off before continuing in a much deeper voice, “do something horribly inappropriate to you in this dining room.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he huffed out a laugh that wasn’t entirely lacking in fear.

Arthur smirked. “No,” he scrunched up his nose as he shook his head, “knowing you it would all just end in a lot of broken crockery. Speared in the head with a stray wineglass stem, or something equally terrible.”

“Wow, Arthur, i t’s comments like that that make it so easy to love you, you know,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “What?” he added, frowning, when he realised that Arthur was giving him that tiny smile he hadn’t seen in over a year.

Arthur took a deep breath and wrapped his arms tightly around Merlin. “Nothing.”

Merlin shivered slightly when Arthur’s warm breath fluttered over his neck. Lips followed breath for the briefest of moments.

“I love you,” Arthur whispered, right into Merlin’s ear.

Merlin’s breath hitched slightly. Arthur didn’t give out those words as freely as he’d used to; a fact that brought a faint ache to Merlin’s chest at the same time as reminding him that Arthur put a lot of faith in that phrase so when he did say it, he meant to.

Arthur pulled back and the smile was still there. “I love you,” he said again, more conviction in his voice as his smile grew wider.

Merlin smiled, fighting the urge to close his eyes and hold onto this moment, his eyes never straying from Arthur’s own.

“Now, come on,” Arthur grinned before Merlin could reply. “My plans can’t be kept waiting.”

Merlin barely contained the laugh that erupted from his chest as Arthur dragged him from the room and almost barrelled into a surprised looking Leon in the hallway.


	19. Chapter 19

Arthur’s plan, as it turned out, wasn’t so much a plan as it was a vague idea to turn up at Gwen and Lance’s flat clutching a share-size bag of crisps and an armful of dvds. (Merlin wasn’t sure but he thought one of them was  _The Princess Diaries._ If that was the case there wasn’t a force on Earth that would protect Arthur from a dvd case to the face.)

Leon had protested about the outing up until the moment Arthur handed him a Creme Egg in the car and told him he could pick the first film. Merlin’s first thought was that snacks were a special type of currency in the Pendragon world. His second was his annual bout of torn feelings regarding said confectionary –‘it’s only January and therefore Creme Eggs aren’t in season, warring with ‘but they’re Creme Eggs!’

“Merlin!” Gwen beamed in surprise when she opened the door to find the motley crew lurking in the hallway.

Merlin was yanked through the door and into his friend’s arms before he could reply. He eventually settled for slipping his arms around Gwen’s waist and squeezing her back.

“Come in, come in.” Gwen ushered all of them into the living room, unceremoniously pushing Lance’s legs off the coffee table with a long-suffering glare.

Lance smiled as he greeted his friends; hugging Merlin, and bestowing hearty handshakes on Arthur and Leon.

“Sorry we didn’t call first.” Arthur looked momentarily sheepish as he spoke. “I just thought this might be a good opportunity to get away from the palace.”

“Of course.” Gwen’s smile was genuine as she gestured at them all to sit down and disappeared off into the kitchen.

“I’ll just go and help,” Merlin said quickly as he followed his friend out of the room. He was eager to see her and he just knew that without Gwen’s influence in the room the others would just start chatting about football within seconds. Or worse -  _polo_.

“Sorry for gate crashing,” Merlin scrunched up his face slightly. “You know what Arthur’s like when he gets an idea in his head.”

Gwen carefully set the teapot down on the counter before turning to look at Merlin. There wasn’t much space in the small room, a fact that made it difficult for Merlin to back away when he saw the searching look in Gwen’s eyes.

“What’s happened?” she asked, all thoughts of making tea abandoned in favour of wrinkling her brow in concern.

“Happened?” Merlin asked, hoping his voice wasn’t actually as high-pitched as it had sounded in that moment. “Nothing’s happened.”

Gwen sighed. “Merlin, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look just like you did when you spent three full days in the library before finals in first year. Only less…” she trailed off to gesture at his face. “Beardy.”

Merlin laughed, but it was straining at the edges. “Wow, thanks Gwen.”

Gwen’s frown deepened.

“Fine,” Merlin sighed, knowing he was never going to win. He’d have to tell her eventually anyway; he supposed a severely edited version of the truth would probably be alright. “It’s just been a really busy few days. Someone who they thought might be using magic against the Royal family was…” Now it was Merlin’s turn to trail off. What was the universally accepted hand-gesture for ‘killed’, anyway? (He wasn’t going to resort to dragging a finger across his throat.)

“Was  _what_?” Gwen tilted her head in the way she always did before the unusually dominant interrogative gene kicked into action. Merlin supposed that character trait wasn’t all that surprising considering the girl in front of him used to be a queen.

“Killed,” Merlin added sheepishly. “There was a bit of an altercation, but it’s fine. Everyone’s fine.”

Gwen’s eyes had widened almost to the point of comedy. Clearly she knew exactly what ‘altercation’ was code for, and she was horrified on his behalf.

“Look,” Merlin continued before his friend had time to respond either through speech or hug, “Arthur really doesn’t want to think about it, and neither do I, so can we please just watch dvds and pretend we’re back at Albion?”

Gwen looked ready to protest.

“Just for a few hours,” Merlin reached out and grabbed her hand. It was a sneaky move, pulling puppy eyes on Gwen, but he convinced himself it was necessary. “Please, Gwen.”

“Fine,” Gwen replied, finally turning back to the teapot, “but I’m choosing the film.”

“Fine by me,” Merlin replied, relieved that she’d let it go so easily. “Just promise me you won’t pick  _The Princess Diaries._ ”

* * *

 

Gwen had smirked every single time Julie Andrews had instructed Anne Hathaway in the ways of being a princess.

Lance had chivalrously kept his mouth shut up until the makeover scene; then he’d choked on a crisp (serves him right for laughing, Merlin thought uncharitably) and had to excuse himself to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Arthur had tried to look as innocent as possible when Gwen had made the selection. Even Merlin’s pitiful claims that Arthur shouldn’t own such a dvd were ignored in favour of his apparent friends ganging up on him.

Only Leon had remained silent, and Merlin hoped for the bodyguard’s sake that he stayed that way as they trudged back to the car hours later.

“I hate you,” Merlin announced loudly when Arthur climbed into the car next to him. “Actual hatred.”

Arthur only grinned in that maddening way he always did when he knew he was successfully winding Merlin up to the point of a tantrum.

In response Merlin made a noise that sounded suspiciously like ‘harrumph’ before turning away and concentrating on the landscape of London as it blurred past in the dark.

* * *

 

“Earth to Merlin.”

Merlin flinched when a perfectly manicured hand wiggled its fingers in his face. He blinked a few times only to find Morgana looking at him in vague concern. “Sorry, Morgana. What did you say?”

“Never mind that,” the princess replied, pulling her armchair closer to the sofa Merlin was curled up on in her study. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Merlin nodded. “Yeah, just tired.” He added, “I promise” when he saw her eyes narrow further “Jesus, it’s like you and Gwen have the same interrogation techniques.”

Morgana smiled slightly. “Sorry. I think you probably know enough about the foundation to be able to cope on Monday. It’s just going to be a lot of meetings for the first few days so just listen in, ask if you don’t understand anything, and for God’s sake don’t go all starry-eyed if Arthur turns up.”

Merlin huffed in annoyance. “I do  _not_  go starry-eyed, Morgana.”

“Sorry,” Morgana grinned as she rolled her eyes, “are you kids calling it something different these days?”

Merlin matched her eye roll with one of his own.

“Now, go to bed or you’ll be useless to me on Monday,” Morgana prodded his knee gently.

Merlin was too tired to disagree. Arthur had easily convinced him that it made more sense to stay at the palace than to head back to Cambridge Place and the promise of feathery pillows only a short walk away were enough to force him into standing.

“Goodnight, Morgana,” he mouthed around a yawn.

Morgana’s grin grew wider as she hugged him tightly. “Goodnight, Merlin.”

Merlin paused just before leaving the study. “Morgana?”

“Hmm?”

“Owain’s alright isn’t he?” Merlin was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t thought about the incapacitated bodyguard, hell, his  _friend_ , all evening. “I mean,  _really_ alright. It’s just…I could have killed him.”

Morgana shook her head quickly, all semblance of a smile fading away. “He’ll be fine, Merlin. It’s just going to take a few weeks for him to recover.”

Merlin nodded silently.

“Now go to sleep,” Morgana added, making a shooing motion. “You have no idea how long the next week’s going to be.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Merlin frowned.

Morgana grinned again. “You know me, Merlin. Ever the optimist.”

Merlin snorted at that as he shook his head. “Why did I agree to work for you?”

Morgana shrugged. “Because I’m charming, wonderful and your favourite person in the world?”

Merlin couldn’t help rolling his eyes again.”

“ _And_ ,” Morgana paused as a cocky smile grew on her lips, “because I’d have hounded you until you said yes.”

“God help me,” Merlin mumbled.

Morgana’s laugh followed him even after he closed the door, a now-familiar sense of belonging blooming in his chest as he walked.

He was so wrapped up in a sleepy sense of contentment that he initially thought he’d imagined the voice.

He frowned, stopping just outside Arthur’s bedroom door. He looked around but he was alone, as he had been since leaving Morgana’s study.

“You’re officially losing it,” he whispered to himself as he reached for the door handle.

Merlin jerked backwards violently as his fingers closed around the shockingly cold metal feeling as though he’d been burned.

He whirled around as the hairs on the back of his neck rose to attention, and this time there could be no denying the existence of the whisper in his ear.

_Emrys._


	20. Chapter 20

“Who are you?” Merlin asked, trying to ignore the fact it looked like he was standing in the middle of an otherwise empty corridor talking to himself.

“You know us,” a different voice replied.

Merlin shook his head vehemently. “I don’t think I do. Now leave. Before I  _make_  you.” He hoped he sounded far more confident than he felt. He was confident that his magic had been growing stronger, but now he was dealing with an unseen force. Not to mention the universe was clearly conspiring to keep him from his much needed eight hours of sleep a night.

“Emrys,” a third voice hissed, “we are but three sisters delivering a message. There is no need to resort to violence; that was always your king’s speciality, not yours.”

“What’s Uther got to do with this?” Merlin frowned.

“My sister talks not of Uther Pendragon,” the first voice replied, the sneer evident. “ _Your_  king, Merlin, has always been Arthur, and there is no difference this time.”

“What do you want with Arthur?” Merlin balled his hands into fists, his eyes darting around the empty space. “I won’t let you hurt him. If you know me as you say do then you’ll know that I’m not lying about that.”

“You always were a firebrand, Merlin,” the second voice added. “It would seem that previous lessons have failed to furnish you with the humility you require.”

“It is rare,” the first voice spoke up before Merlin could object, “for anyone to receive even  _one_  guaranteed chance of swaying his Fate; to be given the opportunity to make a choice knowing the definite outcome of each path. A second chance is a precious thing, Emrys.”

Merlin scoffed. “Oh, I know a  _lot_  about second chances.”

“Then you’ll know to make the right one this time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Arthur Pendragon was once offered a chance; a chance to respect the ways of the Old Religion and restore magic to its rightful place within Camelot,” the first voice explained. “He made the wrong choice and demonstrated a lack of regard for those who were forced to live under his tyranny.”

“Arthur is  _not_ a tyrant!” Merlin spat.

“Arthur Pendragon has always been a tyrant,” the snakelike third voice rejoined the conversation. “You more so than anyone should know that, Emrys.”

“Living in fear for years,” the first voice resumed in soporific tones, “never able to reveal your true self. A friendship built on a foundation of lies, Emrys, is no friendship at all. You should have been the one to convince him, but instead you helped him to turn away from magic. He listened even though he should never have trusted you; not when you lied to him every day for almost a decade.”

“He knows now,” Merlin’s voice rose in volume as he spoke, “and that’s all that matters. He even knew then. I told him the truth and he – and he  _listened_!” Merlin was shouting now, a rush of memories assaulting his mind.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled from inside the bedroom. “What in bloody hell’s name are you shouting about?” The doorknob rattled. Then it rattled again, more furiously this time. “Merlin!”

“It’s alright, Arthur,” Merlin replied, wondering if the voices had gone.

“Well unlock the door then!”

Merlin turned his head slightly; in the corner of his eye he caught the image of a haggard old woman dressed in ragged robes pointing a bony finger at him. He stepped backwards in surprise, his back thudding against the door.

“Merlin!” Arthur slammed his palm against the other side of the wood. “What was that? What’s going on?”

The woman finally spoke. “Arthur must publicly acknowledge the existence of magic, “ she warned, cracked lips moving on a face as rough as sandpaper, “or those who seek to harm you both will never stop hunting you. The Old Religion will make itself known. Choose the correct path, Merlin, and no more blood will be shed in the name of magic.”

The woman flickered out of existence at the same moment the door finally unlatched. Merlin staggered backwards and, tripping over his feet, tumbled to the floor tangled with Arthur in a flail of limbs.

“Oomph!” Arthur released a rush of air even as his arms tightened around Merlin. “Bloody hell! What’s going on now?”

Merlin wriggled, trying to unwind himself from the prince. Arthur, with a huff, twisted slightly and rolled out of the way.

“What just happened?” Arthur asked as he clambered to his feet before reaching down to tug Merlin up after him. “I know you’re a bit mad, but I doubt you’ve actually reached shouting at yourself levels  _just yet_.”

Merlin looked closely at the prince. Arthur was trying to lighten the mood, but the tightness in his jaw was evident: he was spooked. The prince’s eyes roamed over Merlin checking for any obvious signs of injury or harm.

“I don’t know who they were,” Merlin admitted. “They said they were three sisters delivering a message.”

“What message?” Arthur asked with a frown.

Merlin ran a hand through his hair. “We really need to speak to someone about the wards on this place, Arthur. Spirits, or whatever they were, shouldn’t just be able to pop in uninvited if they fancy a quick chat.”

“Merlin, what was the message?”

“I’ll ask Gaius what he thinks we should be doing; there’s got to be a better way of keeping these things out. You think the King would have employed someone with a decent amount of magical knowledge to so-“

“Merlin!” Arthur barked, grasping the shoulders of the boy before him. “ _What was the message?_ ”  He shook his head. “It’s like trying to get a message out of a brick wall!”

Merlin slumped in defeat. He really didn’t want to tell Arthur this part. Not when the message hit rather close to home. But the look on Arthur’s face said he’d take no further diversions. “They said that you once had the chance to restore magic to Camelot, and you chose not to.”

Arthur’s frown deepened. “I must have had good reason.”

“You must,” Merlin replied. “And this was before you knew about me, I mean  _his_ , or  _my_ magic.”

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his jaw and moved to sink onto the edge of the bed, his elbow coming to rest on his knee. “And you know that for a fact?”

Merlin nodded. “You really didn’t know about me until it was too late to change anything.” He shuffled slightly on his feet. “I was supposed to get you to change your mind about Uther’s ban on magic; make you acknowledge that it was a force to be used for good, but I didn’t.”

Arthur considered that statement for a moment. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me,  _him_ \- oh you know what I mean – that I’d made the wrong choice?”

Merlin paused his movements. “Do you think you would have listened? Or would it have been me on a pyre at dawn?”

Arthur practically leaped from the bed to grab Merlin by the arms. “How could you say that?” he barked, his lips only inches from Merlin’s face. “Do you really think I would have done that to you? To  _you_? Jesus, Merlin.”

“I didn’t…”Merlin sighed. “Shit, Arthur, I’m sorry.” He tightened his own grip on the prince. “Sorry, I’m just…freaking out a bit.”

Arthur sighed, dropping his head forwards slightly so that their foreheads met. “What else did they say? What do they want?”

Merlin closed his eyes. “Whoever’s after us, whoever sent Myror and attacked Owain – Arthur, they’re not going to stop until they get what they want. I think everything up to this point has been to prove that they have power they aren’t afraid to use. They want you to publicly acknowledge the existence of magic.”

Silence fell. The air was so still Merlin was sure that both of them had stopped breathing.

“I can’t,” Arthur shook his head eventually as he stepped away to look Merlin in the eyes. “I promised you that I will do whatever I need to do to make sure you are never in danger and never afraid of your magic. But Merlin I can’t just announce to the press that magic exists.”

“I know,” Merlin agreed immediately. “I know you can’t.”

Arthur frowned slightly. “You know?”

“What?” Merlin arched an eyebrow. “You actually  _want_  me to argue with you?”

“No!” Arthur answered quickly. “I just…” He shrugged.

Merlin smiled slightly. He opened his mouth to tease Arthur for his lack of eloquence when the sound of hurried footsteps on the main staircase drew his attention away.

Leon, panting slightly, a look of nausea on his face was gripping the doorframe with one hand. “Arthur,” he choked out.

Arthur’s eyes went wide, immediately moving away from Merlin. “What is it? Leon what’s wrong?”

Leon swallowed loudly. “It’s your father, Arthur. He’s collapsed at the palace. They’re rushing him to the hospital now, but I thought you’d want me to drive you.”

Arthur blanched, his knees wobbling slightly. Merlin reached forward to steady him, his fingers curling around his forearm protectively.

“We’ll be downstairs in two minutes, Leon,” Merlin said, steering a silent Arthur towards the edge of the bed again. “You should tell Morgana.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Leon said quietly.

“Arthur,” Merlin dropped to his knees in front of Arthur, “you need to get dressed and then we’re going to see him. He’ll be fine. I promise, I  _promise_.” Merlin knew he couldn’t really promise anything, but Arthur’s reaction was completely at odds with how Merlin had seen him take bad news before and it was throwing him for a loop. He thought Arthur would have been rushing for the door immediately.

Arthur still wasn’t moving. Merlin shook his head and stood up, looking round for the jeans and hoodie that Arthur had discarded earlier. “Here, put these on.” He gently squeezed Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, please come on. Come on, we need to go.”

Arthur looked up slowly, clearly in a daze. “He can’t die. Merlin, he can’t die.”

“He  _won’t_ ,” Merlin shook his head vehemently as he handed the clothes to the prince. And as a tiny flicker of hope crept into Arthur’s eyes Merlin hoped he was right. Because if he wasn’t, he had a feeling there’d be hell to pay.

And then some.


	21. Chapter 21

Arthur felt like hell. He’d consumed enough gritty coffee in the past four hours that he felt like he could probably run for the next week without sleep, and if that didn’t work the hard plastic of the chair he’d slouched into was uncomfortable enough that he couldn’t even consider sitting down for longer than twenty minutes at a time.

He was pacing again when Merlin returned with three bottles of water and a packet of chocolate digestives.

“Arthur,” Merlin said gently. “You really should sit down.”  He frowned as he looked around. “Where’s Morgana?”

The prince continued to wear a hole in the linoleum floor as he replied, “She’s gone outside with Elyan to get some air.”

“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was even softer as he stepped in front of Arthur. “Please sit down. I got you some water, and managed to sweet talk a student doctor into nabbing us a pack of biscuits from the break room – she’s a big fan of yours, it turns out, so knew that chocolate ones were probably the way to your heart.”

Arthur finally did stop. “What?”

“Sit down.” Merlin nudged him towards the chair and slouched down in the one next to him. “Here.” He handed over a bottle of water and set to work on opening the plastic wrapping on the biscuits.

Arthur closed his eyes and gripped the bottle tightly. “Merlin,” he whispered, “this is my fault.”

The rustling of plastic halted immediately and Arthur felt Merlin’s hand curl briefly around his wrist before pulling away again. “Arthur, look at me.” A few seconds passed without movement. “Arthur.”

Arthur slowly opened his eyes and turned to look at Merlin.

“This  _isn’t_  your fault.” Merlin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s. “There’s nothing you could have done to stop any of it. You heard what the doctors said – it was a pre-existing condition.”

Arthur huffed a humorless laugh. “I also heard the part where they asked me if he’s been under particular stress lately.”

“Arthur, don’t.” Merlin’s voice lost the gentle edge it had taken on back at the palace; this was more of a warning. “Don’t start blaming yourself w-“

“Merlin!” Arthur jumped to his feet immediately. “In the last two weeks I’ve threatened t-“

“Arthur.” Merlin’s hissed warning stopped Arthur immediately. “Just stop.”

Arthur, remembering that he wasn’t at home, and probably shouldn’t start announcing details of his personal life to a hospital corridor, no matter how empty it appeared, clamped his lips shut. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and tugged on the strands hard enough to hurt. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing,” Merlin replied quietly. “There’s nothing you  _can_ do. Your father is going to be fine, Arthur. You just need to be patient.”

Arthur remained quiet for a long time, watching as Merlin’s posture remained a taut line, the grip on the biscuits increasing as the seconds past.  _Oh_ , Arthur thought as his brain finally caught up with the words that had tripped off his tongue. Arthur now felt like hell,  _and_  like an utter moron. “I wouldn’t change any of my decisions,” the prince replied eventually.

Merlin looked at him immediately, a modicum of tension slipping from his expression. “You wouldn’t?”

Arthur slowly dropped his hand from his hair and brushed his fingers over the back of Merlin’s hand where it rested between the two plastic seats. Arthur shook his head. “I wouldn’t.” He sighed. “But it’s still my fault my father’s here, Merlin.”

“No more yours than mine,” Merlin replied softly.

Arthur frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off as the door at the end of the corridor opened and Morgana swept in with a tray holding three mugs, a French press, and a small bottle of milk.

“I thought we might need this,” Morgana said as she settled the tray on an empty chair and set about pouring three mugs of the rich-smelling liquid.

“Where did you get this from?” Arthur frowned at his sister.

“I had a chat with a lovely young doctor called Patrick,” Morgana blushed slightly. “He says he knows full well what that coffee from the machine can do to you, and appropriated this little stash from his mentor in paediatrics.”

Arthur shook his head, a smile rising unbidden to his face – a real surprise under the circumstances. “You two are awful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Morgana asked imperiously.

“You sweet talked a paediatrician into supplying us with good coffee.” Arthur now turned to look at Merlin again. “And  _you_  sweet talked a student doctor into supplying us with biscuits.”

Merlin and Morgana traded a look that suggested that they were both perfectly happy with the fact that they weren’t above sweet-talking anyone if it meant it cheered Arthur up a bit.

Arthur thought they were the best two people on the planet. “Cheeky buggers, the pair of you,” is what he actually said, snagging up a mug before Morgana could hide them on principle.

“Any press outside?” Arthur asked after a few moments of companionable silence, broken only by soft yawns and the odd crunch of a chocolate digestive.

Morgana nodded as she swallowed her coffee with a sigh. “Annis’ press release went out within an hour of us arriving here so that nipped most of the speculation in the bud. I think one of us is going to have to say something though.”

Arthur slumped slightly. “I thought you might say that. Has Annis already written something she wants me to say?”

Morgana frowned, shaking her head again. “You don’t have to be the one to do it, Arthur. I’m your big sister, after all.”

“But y-“

Arthur was cut off once more as the door opened again and a doctor strode into the corridor, flanked by Leon and Elyan. Arthur. Morgana and Merlin immediately rose to their feet.

“Your royal highnesses,” the doctor nodded his head to Merlin and Morgana, frowning slightly at Merlin as if not sure what to make of him. “We’ll be keeping your father here under observation for the next couple of days, and he will require some further specialist care when he returns home.”

Arthur gulped. “But he’s alright?”

The doctor smiled, his whole face changing from grave to friendly. “Yes, sir, your father will be fine. He will just have to avoid any strenuous activity, or engagements for the foreseeable future.”

Arthur’s heart swelled with relied, and then sank almost immediately. No royal engagements for Uther could only mean one thing for his son. Now, however, was not the time to dwell on that so he painted a smile onto his face and held out his hand to the doctor. “Thank you, sir, for taking care of my father.”

“Not at all,” he replied kindly. “Someone will be through to take you to him soon. Please excuse me, I must return to my duties.”

“Of course,” Morgana smiled weakly at him.

The doctor nodded his head once more and left. Elyan escorting him from the corridor as Leon stayed behind.

“Arthur,” Leon said quietly, “can I have a word?”

Arthur closed his eyes. “When do I take over?” He felt Merlin tense slightly next to him.

“The King has a full diary of engagements tomorrow,” Leon replied. “We can probably cancel all of them, but he has a couple of meetings on Tuesday that really must go ahead if possible.”

Arthur sighed again as he opened his eyes. “Alright. I take it Annis is already here?”

“She’s just outside,” Leon replied, sending the prince a sympathetic glance. “It  _will_  be okay, Arthur.”

“Hmm,” Arthur replied as he looked to Merlin for moral support. “We’ll see.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Fuck,” Merlin hissed as he dropped his head into his hands, pushing his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Merlin?” Morgana asked questioningly from somewhere nearby. “I’m all for a little therapeutic swearing once in a while, but what’s wrong?”

Merlin looked up. “Morgana, he’s going to Sweden for three days.”

Morgana frowned. “Okay,” she replied slowly. “I know you two are all disgustingly smitten with each other again, but it’s only three days.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Not that,” he huffed. “Look, you should sit down.”

“Oh my God,” Morgana breathed, “what’s happened now?”

“Just after I left you last night, I was, er,  _visited_  by someone.”

“Visited?” Morgana arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Merlin replied. “Three someones actually.  They told me that Arthur needs to declare the existence of magic publicly, or the people who’ve been after us won’t stop.”

Morgana’s eyes widened. “Who were these people, Merlin? Does Arthur know?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin replied with a sigh. “Who they are, I mean. Yes, Arthur knows – it happened just before Leon came to tell him about your father.”

“And now Arthur’s going to Sweden without any magic to protect him,” Morgana concluded. “You’re right.  _Fuck_.”

“ _And_ ,” Merlin added, “even though Leon’s going with him, Percy’s off Arthur’s detail until next week, and Owain…” he trailed off, not wanting to think about poor Owain right then.

“He has Galahad though,” Morgana replied.

“Who knows nothing about magic,” Merlin replied. “And with Uther here I’m worried about Agravaine somehow weaseling his way back into the palaces.”

Morgana bristled. “That  _man_  isn’t going anywhere near a palace while there’s still breath in my body. Is there anything you can do to protect Arthur even if you’re not with him. Maybe I could help?”

Merlin sighed loudly. “I don’t know. Morgana, are we  _ever_ going to be able to just get on with our lives?”

Morgana smiled sadly. “I don’t know, Merlin. I honestly don’t know.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“My family and I would like to pass on our sincerest thanks to the staff here for the care they have provided for my father, and for their support show to my sister and I over the course of last night.” Arthur held himself straight as he looked out over the sea of press photographers and journalists. “I look now to the great people of this country to support me as I  _temporarily_  conduct duties on behalf of his majesty, the King, and ask that the privacy of our family be respected at this time.”

Arthur nodded slightly and disappeared back into the hospital’s warren of corridors as a burst of unwanted questions echoed through the conference room.

“Are you alright?” Leon asked carefully as Arthur stopped to lean against a wall.

“They’re like vultures, Leon,” Arthur replied, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Did you hear what they were saying before I came in?”

Leon nodded gravely. “Arthur, there’s always going to be speculation around any illness in the royal family, you know that.”

“I know, Leon,” Arthur replied quietly. “But last time it happened…my mother died.”

Leon didn’t reply, and for that Arthur was immensely grateful.

“Have Morgana and Merlin gone home?” Arthur asked eventually.

Leon shook his head. “They’re refusing to leave without you.” Leon looked awkward. “Arthur, we’re going to have to take Merlin back to Cambridge Place. With the press around…” he trailed off, his meaning clear.

Arthur slumped. “I know. I want you to be the one leading his detail.”

Leon shook his head. “I can’t do that, Arthur.”

“Leon, I can’t leave him unprotected,” Arthur hissed as he gestured for the to start walking down the deserted corridor towards where he knew Morgana and Merlin were waiting. “I trust Elyan with Morgana, but without Owain there for Merlin…”

Leon stopped, pressing a hand to Arthur’s arm. “Arthur, do you completely believe that Percy was telling the truth about what happened in the park?”

Arthur frowned. “I do. I still have no reason to believe that Percy would lie to me.”

“’Then let me rearrange things so that Percy moves from your detail to Merlin’s,” Leon said. “I’ll make sure the house is under constant surveillance, and I’ll double the size of the detail due to follow Merlin and Morgana when they’re at the Foundation tomorrow.”

Arthur nodded after a long moment of silence. “Alright, but I want you to make sure that Percy know  _everything_  that’s happened recently.”

“I can do that,” Leon replied.

Arthur gave a look towards the conference room door, the press still visible through the glass panel. He started walking again, then stopped almost immediately with another frown.

“What is it?” Leon asked.

Arthur stiffened suddenly as he looked away from the door and back at Leon.

“What?” Leon asked, his hand automatically reaching towards the gun holstered at his side.

“Leon, is anyone still stationed on the press exit for that room?” Arthur asked hurriedly, striding up the corridor again.

“Yes,” Leon replied, hurrying after him with a questioning backwards glance at the conference room door. “Why?”

“Call them now and tell them they might need to apprehend someone,” Arthur replied. “Leon, I think I just saw Morgause Gorlois.”


	22. Chapter 22

Merlin was pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes in an effort to stay awake. Arthur had been whisked away to give his statement to the press half an hour before and hadn’t yet returned. Sitting next to him, Morgana’s head kept nodding to towards her chest before she jerked upright again. They were pressed together shoulder to shoulder in an unconscious show of moral support as they waited for the prince to return.

“What time is it?” Morgana whispered eventually.

“I have no idea,” Merlin replied. “Hang on.” He wearily pushed himself up into a sitting position and rolled up the cuff of his shirt to see his watch. “Oh God, it’s quarter to seven.”

Morgana let out a small whining sound – and it was the least elegant Merlin had ever heard her. “Merlin, we have to be at the Foundation at nine.”

Merlin scrubbed his hands over his face with a groan. “I forgot.”

Morgana, heaving a deep sigh, stumbled to her feet and dropped her face into her hands. “I’d say we could rearrange things for another day, but I’ve got the chairs of twelve children’s groups arriving for a meeting; it’s been impossible to get them all free at once up to now and it could be months before it could be arranged again. I’m really sorry, Merlin.”

“No,” he replied, trying to stifle a yawn. “God, no, Morgana, this isn’t your fault. And I get it,  _really_. You don’t just get to stop when something like this happens.”

There was a knock on the door to the small waiting room. “Your Royal Highness, Merlin?”

Morgana opened the door and found Mordred Cornish standing next to Elyan. “Mordred,” she greeted him with as much enthusiasm as she could, and Merlin was secretly impressed by how awake she sounded. “What can we do for you?”

Mordred smiled tiredly – clearly Annis had been ordering her team around all night too. “I thought you and Merlin might like some proper coffee.” He held up a cardboard holder containing two cups. “ _And_  Annis wanted me to check that you’re both fully aware of the press interest that there’s going to be in your movements today.” He looked a little sheepish as he finished. “Sorry about that part.”

Morgana gratefully accepted the two cups. “Thank you, Mordred. Please tell me you’ve managed to get some sleep.”

Mordred shook his head. “We were finalising Arthur’s statement until just before he appeared in front of the press.”

Merlin frowned. “Has he finished giving his statement?”

Mordred nodded. “He finished about ten minutes ago. He was heading in this direction with Leon.”

Merlin’s frown deepened as Morgana turned to look at him. “Then where is he?”

* * *

 

“Nobody else saw her, Arthur,” Leon said, running a hand through his hair. “Are you sure it was her?”

Arthur shook his head. “I couldn’t swear on it, Leon, but it looked just like her. Just for a second.”

“How long until you can get the security footage of the room?” Arthur nodded towards the hospital security office that he’d been hovering outside of for the past ten minutes.

“Gal said ten minutes, ten minutes ago,” Leon checked his watch.  “We really should get you back to Merlin and your sister, Arthur. It’s nearly seven.”

Arthur sighed loudly. He hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital until he knew whether he really had seen Morgause or not. “Is the guard on my father’s room doubled?”

“Yes,” Leon replied. “Doubled and Niede Triarach is on her way to add wards to the room.”

“Can she be trusted?” Arthur asked, popping his tired shoulders again.

“Her wards were on the house in Albion and Balmoral,” Leon replied. “They’re both places you’ve always been safe. I thought she was the right one to ask.”

Arthur nodded. “Then she’s our best bet. I don’t want anyone else from the Council involved at all, and nobody breathes a word of Morgause to Merlin or Morgana. I don’t want them worrying about this.”

Leon frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Arthur?”

Arthur squared his shoulders and raised his chin. “Leon, if Morgause really isn’t dead then she’s going to be out for revenge and of course Merlin and Morgana will have to know if they are to protect themselves. But for now, while it’s nothing more than speculation I want them kept out the loop. Understood?” Arthur didn’t often pull rank with Leon, but this was important.

Leon didn’t look happy but he bobbed his head slightly anyway. “Understood.”

“Thank you,” Arthur nodded. “Right let’s get Merlin back to Cambridge Place then.”

“Percy’s on his way with a car,” Leon replied as they began the long walk back to the lifts. “Merlin should have just enough time before Percy will bring him back to Kensington to meet Morgana. Then Elyan will take over as driver, but they will  _both_  stay with Merlin and Morgana all day.”

Arthur prodded the lift call button more viciously than necessary. “Fuck,” he muttered, slamming his palm against the wall. “She’s supposed to be dead, Leon. How can she  _possibly_ still be alive?”

“Arthur, we don’t know for sure that she  _is_ alive,” Leon replied steadily. “It’s been a long night and you’ve had a lot to cope with.”

“Is this ever going to end?” Arthur hissed. “People try to kill me, hurt Morgana, kill  _Merlin_ , and for what? So that I’ll go on TV and tell everybody that they should really start worrying about every nightmare they’ve ever had? That monsters and magic are real? That stupid stories they’ve read in books  _really happened_?”

Leon frowned. “Publicly acknowledge magic?”

Arthur sighed as the lift arrived and he and Leon stepped inside. “Something spoke to Merlin just before we left for the hospital.”

“Arthur,” Leon growled. “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? We could have swept the palace!”

“For what?” Arthur threw up his hands, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “A disembodied voice? Jesus, Leon. I’m sick to death of all of this, but I can’t just announce that magic exists. The country would be up in arms, and only if they believed me in the first place!”

“Arthur,” Leon grabbed his charge’s arm. “ _Arthur!_  You’ve always chosen the right path.”

“Yeah,” Arthur scoffed, “but usually as a last resort.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Leon replied. “The point is that you  _will_  make the right decision when the time comes. You have a team, a  _good team_  of people around you that will do whatever it takes to keep you all safe. Whatever happens, you’ll deal with it in the way that’s best for everyone.”

Arthur closed his eyes. Everyone around him always had more faith in his ability to rule than he did – he couldn’t let them down now. His eyes snapped open and he set his jaw. “Then we find Morgause Gorlois and we end this  _now_.”

“I’ll be right beside you, Arthur,” Leon replied. “We all will.”

Arthur nodded his thanks just as the lift doors opened and he found himself faced with a frowning Merlin and Morgana. Elyan, Percy and Mordred were hovering off to the side.

“Where’ve you been?” Morgana asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Nowhere,” Arthur plastered a fake smile onto his face. “I just wanted to see Father again briefly before we left.”

“Right,” Morgana replied slowly. “”Of course.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who despite looking like a small gust of wind would knock him over, was roving a calculating gaze over Arthur’s face. He was definitely suspicious.

“Percy, could you take Merlin back to Cambridge Place now, please?” Leon asked, noting that Arthur and Merlin were embarking in a staring contest that was unlikely to end well.

“Of course.” Percy nodded. “Merlin?”

“Yeah,” Merlin replied slowly. “I’m coming.”

“I think it’s time we all left,” Morgana yawned again and draped an arm over Merlin’s shoulders. “Let’s go.” She shot her brother an arched eyebrow before turning away with Merlin and heading for the exit; the pair of them stumbling slightly with tiredness

“I think,” Leon said quietly behind Arthur as they followed suit, “it might be safe to say they don’t believe you.”

Arthur shook his head. “Yeah, thanks for that, Leon.”

* * *

 

“Morgana?” Merlin called, sticking his head around the slightly open door of the office.

Morgana was slumped in her chair, snoring softly as she still clutched her notes from the earlier meeting in her hand. Lunch still sitting untouched on her desk from when it had been delivered hours earlier.

Merlin was caught somewhere between jealousy (he’d now gone past the point where he could fall asleep he’d had so many cups of coffee since they’d arrived at the Foundation’s offices at nine) and fondness. He quietly pulled the door out and waved to Elyan, who came over immediately.

“Elyan, I think the princess needs to go home now,” Merlin said as he nodded towards the door. “I don’t think she’s moved in hours.”

“I’ve been holding calls since one,” Morgana’s assistant piped up from her desk.

Elyan smiled slightly – perhaps Merlin was finally forgiven for taking the car from Selfridges – and nodded. “I’ll have the car brought around. Is Percy still in your office?”

Merlin nodded. He still couldn’t quite get his head around the fact he had an office. Hell, he couldn’t get his head around the fact he had a  _job_. “I’ll tell him we’re ready to leave.”

“I’ll get him,” Elyan replied, “and have Mordred meet us downstairs. You should probably wake the princess.”

Merlin grinned. “One of the many things I didn’t think someone would say to me today.” He pushed Morgana’s door open again gently and padded towards her. “Morgana?”

The princess shifted slightly in her sleep, but didn’’t wake.

Merlin opened his mouth to softly call her name again but was cut off as the phone perched on her desk rang shrilly. Morgana jerked awake, blinking rapidly as she took in her surroundings.

“Merlin,” the princess squinted at him in vague confusion. “What time is it?”

“It’s just gone five,” Merlin replied, “and your mobile’s ringing.”

Morgana groaned as she picked up the handset and looked at the caller id. She took a deep breath and swiped her finger across the screen. “Morgana Pendragon.”

Merlin couldn’t hear who was on the other end of the call, but he sank gratefully into the plush grey sofa behind him. He closed his eyes as each blink got longer and longer.

“What?!”

Morgana’s undignified shriek had Merlin stumbling off the sofa in surprise. “What? What’s going on?”

“I’ll call you back, Annis,” Morgana hissed into the phone, dropping it unceremoniously on to a stack of papers before typing manically on her keyboard.

“Morgana, what’s wrong?” Merlin asked in concern, stepping towards the desk. His own worry increasing as he watched Morgana’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh my God,” Morgana breathed.

“What? What?”

Morgana crooked a finger at Merlin and gestured for him to come round to her side of the desk. He did as requested, his confusion lasting only scant seconds before he took in what Morgana had been looking at.

“Oh God,” Merlin groaned. “Are they serious?”

Morgana looked at him and arched an eyebrow. “It’s going to print in seven different publications. I’d say they’re deadly serious.”

Merlin scrubbed his hands over his face, peeking through his fingers to check that he hadn’t misread the headline the first time:

_The Princess and The Pauper_

No, he hadn’t misread it. The headline was emblazoned above a picture of Morgana and Merlin in the hospital that morning, arms around each other for support. He leaned closer to the screen and read the caption underneath the image.  _HRH Princess Morgana turns to rumoured beau Merlin Emrys for support during this difficult time._

“That’s ridiculous!” Merlin announced, flailing slightly as tiredness and uncoordinated limbs threatened to have him crumpling to the ground.

“Arthur’s going to be pissed!” Morgana added.

Merlin couldn’t hold in the laugh that burst out of his mouth at that. Seconds later, Morgana joined in, tears rolling down her face as she dissolved into giggles.

Elyan found them minutes later, still clutching each other as they howled with mirth.

Elyan, being sensible, retreated to the corridor and waited for them to calm down. He would face down death and monsters, but giggling he could do without.


	23. Chapter 23

“Merlin Emrys,  _what_  have you gotten yourself into now?”

Merlin winced as Hunith barrelled straight into the question, not even bothering to respond to his wary ‘hello’. He took the phone away from his ear to turn down the volume before he replied. “Mum, it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“A  _misunderstanding_?” Hunith’s tone was cool. “Merlin, do you remember when I had that rather persistent gentleman from  _The Times_  calling me about Gwaine and Arthur duelling for your honour?”

“Mum!” Merlin hissed, his cheeks flaming at her words. “Nobody ever used the phrase ‘duelling for my honour’!”

“Semantics, my boy,” Hunith replied. “Do you remember him?”

“Yes,” Merlin answered, because he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this conversation unless he submitted to his mother’s control of it.

“Good. And you remember how I told him he wasn’t to call here again unless he had  _very_  good reason to?”

“Yes.”

“Apparently the fact that my son is in a secret relationship with Princess Morgana is a  _very good reason!_ ”

Merlin winced again as Hunith’s pitch and volume increased. Hid mother didn’t descend into hysterics very often, but when she did…well, it was like dealing with Nerys Parry.

“Mum, really,” Merlin replied, “you know it’s ridiculous. Morgana is my friend and, there’s, you know,  _the other thing_.”

 _The other thing_ being code for Arthur, obviously. He hoped his mother picked up on the fact that he was worried people might be listening to the call considering the flurry of headlines that morning.

Hunith huffed out a breath of exasperation on the other end of the line. “You don’t need to remind me of  _the other thing_ , Merlin Emrys,” she replied. “I know full well about that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are draping yourself all over a princess in the middle of the night!”

Merlin held the phone away from his ear, catching the sympathetic glance from Percy in the rearview mirror. Thankfully they had left Morgana at Kensington a few minutes ago; he couldn’t begin to imagine the levels of mortification that would have ensued if the princess had been in the car for this.

“I can’t believe you would bring something like this on yourself!”

“Mum.”

“Oh my God, Merlin, it’s on the  _Guardian_ website now!”

“Mum, please stop Googling me”

“What’s a Buzzfeed? You’re on that as well!”

“Oh my God,  _Mum_. STOP!”

Percy, surprised as he was by Merlin’s sudden yell, actually tapped on the brakes. The car jerked and Merlin coughed when the seatbelt pulled across his chest.

“Sorry,” Percy said quietly from the front.

Merlin waved a hand in mutual apology. “Mum, please can we not talk about this right now. I haven’t had any sleep-“

“Because you’ve been gallivanting about town causing trouble for yourself!”

“Mum,” Merlin sighed, “being at the hospital when the King’s suffered a heart attack is  _not_  gallivanting about town.”

“Yes, well,” Hunith replied and Merlin could hear the  _harrumph_  she didn’t voice. “Thank God His Majesty is alright. But that’s no excuse for you behaving inappropriately. The Princess must be horrified.”

Merlin pursed his lips. “Thanks, Mum.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, my boy,” Hunith snapped. “I’m going to have photographers popping up behind the rhododendrons again, aren’t I?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Mum, you knew that was going to happen at some point.”

“I thought I’d have some fair warning first,” Hunith replied. “Now behave yourself, Nerys is coming up the path and I have to be ready for her.”

Merlin sagged in relief as the car turned into Cambridge Place. “Yes, behaving. Bye Mum.”

“I love you, Merlin,” Hunith sighed. “But sometimes it’s very hard work being your mother.” With that, she hung up.

Merlin clapped a hand across his mouth as he shook his head.

“You alright there Merlin?” Percy asked.

Merlin nodded weakly. “For a rational woman my mum can be a bit…”he trailed off with a shrug.

“All mothers are the same,” Percy replied with a chuckle. “You should have seen mine when I told her I was working for the Pendragons. She actually went to Harrods to by a toilet roll cover just in case any of the family ever popped round for tea.”

Merlin looked horrified and Percy grinned. “Exactly. It’s even worse when you know it’s knitted and has a crown on it.”

Merlin couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out at the thought.

“It looks surprisingly empty considering you’re apparently marrying the princess.” Percy looked around as they parked.

“Hmm,” Merlin was always wary about the press when he couldn’t see them. “Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“You do know I’m  _not_  marrying Morgana, don’t you?” Merlin frowned. It was getting increasingly difficult to remember who knew what about his life.

Percy only grinned again. “Yes, Merlin, I’m fully aware there is nothing going on between you and Morgana. I was briefed fully about your current  _situation_  by Leon yesterday.”

_Oh crap, **Leon**. Okay, this was probably going to be a bit awkward._

“Merlin, are you planning on sitting in the car all night?” Percy asked. “I don’t mind, but I’ve heard that Maggie’s in there and will probably have cake.”

Merlin laughed again. “Sorry, I’m completely asleep.” He shook himself and clambered out of the car.

“Merlin! Merlin!”

 _Oh, for fuck’s sake_  Merlin closed his eyes and stomped towards the front door, Percy to his left as journalists and photographers appeared from the front gardens of his neighbours (who were probably going to be royally pissed off about that). Merlin almost let loose a hysterical giggle when a photographer did in fact appear from behind a rhododendron. He wished he still had Mordred with him; it must be Annis’ training but Mordred had a way of laser-glaring at people until they moved out of the way. Merlin, by contrast, only increased in awkwardness when surrounded unexpectedly.

Percy, thankfully, was more on form. “Okay, everyone, let Mr Emrys through please.” He moved to shield Merlin from photographers. “You are all currently trespassing on private property and if you haven’t removed yourselves in sixty seconds I will have a security team here to do the removing for you.”

Merlin fumbled with his key in the lock, but blessedly Maggie was waiting on the other side to open the door and pull him inside. Percy remained outside for an extra few seconds in order to look intimidating and scare the journalists into moving. Percy was good at that.

“Merlin, pet.” Maggie was inspecting him closely. “Come in and sit down. I’ve made supper early because Morgana called ahead to say that you haven’t slept since last night.”

Merlin yawned at the mention of sleep, but he couldn’t deny that he was starving.

“And you Percival,” Maggie pointed to the hulking man who’d just closed the front door. “I believe you’ll be staying with us for a while.”

Percy grinned like he couldn’t believe his luck. “That’s right, ma’am.”

Maggie waved at him. “ _Maggie_ , please. I’m not the queen, dear.” She turned on her heel and drifted back into the kitchen.

“I’ve heard all about her,” Percy said conspiratorially as he walked with Merlin to the kitchen. “Apparently she makes the best bread in the world.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Merlin replied. He frowned. “Although don’t tell my Mum that. Her and Maggie would get on brilliantly, but probably not until there’d been a Bake Off.”

Percy snorted. “Has Arthur called you yet?”

Merlin shook his head as he pushed open the kitchen door. “He’s in meetings about this trip to Sweden until later. I’ve got no idea if he’s seen the news or not.”

“Oh, he’s seen the news.”

Merlin came to such a sudden stop that Percy walked straight into him and had to grab his arm to stop him faceplanting.

“Arthur!” Merlin’s eyes widened and his name came out rather more hysterically than he’d wanted. He blinked twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

 _Nope_ , there was Arthur sitting at the kitchen table, casual as you like.

“Merlin,” Arthur replied, smiling tightly, “do you mind if we have a word before dinner?”

Merlin just gaped, which was obviously answer enough for Arthur who came over and pulled him out of the room.

“ _Five minutes,_ boys!” Maggie called after them. “Percival, won’t you sit down?”

Merlin sagged against the wall. “Arthur, are you going to get all pissy about this? Because if you are, can you wait until tomorrow. I’m  _tired_  and  _hungry_  and-“

“Ridiculous?” Arthur arched an eyebrow. “Because I’d say getting yourself photographed in the claws of my sister is more than a bit ridiculous.”

“I was tired,” Merlin replied, and he was  _not_  whining. “Morgana was tired. We’d been sitting around waiting for you after you disappeared.”

“Do you have any idea what my father is going to say when he hears about this?” Arthur frowned.

“Probably something like  _Bollocks! Now both my children have been seduced by that skinny bloke from Wales_.  _Quick, send for MI5_?” Merlin dropped his head to his chest with a sigh.

Arthur was completely silent for over ten seconds. This worried Merlin enough to open his eyes; Arthur was staring at him in a mixture of horror and amazement.

“What?” Merlin huffed.

“Merlin, did you just make another joke about my father?” Arthur asked.

“Possibly,” Merlin squinted at the prince. “Look, Arthur, the whole thing is a load of rubbish, which you know and  _Morgana_ knows, and everybody else who has anything to do with us – Oh, hi Leon.”

Leon had just exited the study and Merlin blinked at him.

“Merlin,” Leon nodded, quirking an eyebrow at the younger man. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Merlin nodded quickly. “Yep, totally fine. Not in a relationship with Morgana and completely okay with that fact.”

Leon frowned. “O-kaaay.” He tilted his head. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Merlin nodded again. He was starting to feel like an ornamental nodding dog.

“Excuse me then.” Leon pointed at the door. “I’m just going to-“ At that he wandered away from them, clearly pretending he wasn't trying to hurry, and disappeared into the kitchen.

“You’re being weirder than usual,” Arthur commented. “And I have no idea if that’s a good thing, or not.”

“Arthur, I’m not marrying Morgana,” Merlin replied, at a loss as to how else he could phrase his thoughts.

“Damn right you’re not marrying Morgana,” Arthur replied with a slight twitch. “God, I don’t even want to think about that.”

Merlin frowned. “I’m starting to think I should be insulted by how everyone I know thinks the press is completely mad for even  _suggesting_  that Morgana and I are together.”

“Well it  _is_ mad,” Arthur replied.

“I know!” Merlin replied. “But why am I the one being blamed for it? There was mutual cuddling in that photo.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow again. “ _Mutual cuddling?”_

“Mutual!”

“Well, Merlin, compared to Morgana, you’re basically a kitten.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open in indignation. “I am  _not_ a kitten. Bloody hell, Arthur! That’s ridiculous and you know full well that I c-“

Merlin suddenly found himself with a face full of Arthur cutting off anything else he might want to say.

Arthur pulled back slightly and Merlin had to blink rapidly to avoid going cross-eyed.

“Merlin,” the prince said, a smile threatening to break out, “I’d like you to stop and think about the fact you’re trying to argue that you and Morgana could work out.”

Merlin couldn’t do anything but pout. “My Mum shouted at me.”

Arthur snorted with laughter. “She’s your mother, Merlin. That’s what she’s supposed to do when you’re photographed in the tabloids.” He leaned forward and kissed Merlin again. “Now stop being ridiculous and come and have some food.”

“How did you get here anyway?” Merlin asked. “There’s press everywhere outside.”

“I walked in like I always do,” Arthur grinned. “They probably think I’m here to read you the riot act. Defending my sister’s honour and everything.”

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“What?” Arthur grinned. “If everyone thinks you and Morgana are an item it means I can casually wander over here whenever I want.”

“Arthur, you’re the Prince of Wales,” Merlin replied. “You don’t  _casually wander_  anywhere.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “You’re a pedant, Merlin, did you know that?”

Merlin didn’t deign to reply. He pushed off the wall and headed for the kitchen.

Arthur grabbed his hand just before he reached the kitchen. “Just so we’re clear,” the prince said as he tightened his grasp and pointed at Merlin with his free hand. “Mine.”

* * *

 

Arthur was tapping his foot impatiently under the table, doing his best to ignore the sidelong pointed glances being shot at him from Leon. Merlin, mercifully, had nearly fallen asleep in his spaghetti twice at this stage so the prince wasn’t worried about Merlin noticing that Arthur was a bit  _on edge._

He’d reviewed the security tapes with Leon after the press conference; running the video backwards and forwards for what seemed like hours looking for any clue that Morgause had been where Arthur had sworn he saw her.

Initially they hadn’t seen anything that would warrant further investigation; although they did notice that a certain prolific journalist kept swiping drinks from a hip flask when he thought nobody was looking – at least that had provided amusement for ten minutes or so.

But it was only on slowing the video down to the absolute slowest setting the equipment at St James’ could manage had they spotted the anomaly. A brief flash, lasting for less than a sixteenth of a second by the door outlined a cloaked figure. They couldn’t make out any discernable features, but Arthur was willing to bet a significant amount on it being Morgause, or at least someone working for her cause.

Half of him really wanted to tell Merlin what he thought he’d seen, but the glassy-eyed gaze Merlin had affixed to the platter of garlic bread in the middle of the table had given Arthur pause for thought. He still sometimes forgot that Merlin hadn’t been dealing with all the madness since birth; he reminded himself again that he really should tell Merlin that he was really quite impressed with his handling of everything (debacle of the day notwithstanding).

The other half - the warier, more rational half - was still hesitant to say anything in case it all turned out to be a big misunderstanding that only drove everyone into a panic they could do without right now. Regardless of Morgause’s suspected reappearance Arthur still had a list a mile long of duties that needed to be completed in the next week  _and_  he was going to be shipped off to Sweden for half of that time.

The prince rubbed a hand over his face, trying to tune back into the animated conversation between two royal bodyguards and his former nanny.  _God, no wonder people thought his life was ridiculous._

It was at that point that Merlin’s head dropped onto his chest and he didn’t so much as flinch when his fork clattered off the table and onto the floor. He was well and truly asleep.

“Right, young man,” Maggie stared pointedly at Arthur, “I think it’s high time you sorted this poor boy out, don’t you?”

Arthur tried to look indignant for a second – it wasn’t like he was just going to leave Merlin to droop into his spaghetti after all – but then he remembered who he was up against and nodded contritely instead.

“Well,” Maggie said as she stood, “if you boys will excuse me I have to go and get some washing on. I’ll have dessert for you all shortly.”

Arthur shot her a grateful smile as she passed.

“And I have to go and check something in the car,” Leon said in a slightly stilted manner as he too rose from the table. “Percy, you can come and hold the door for me.”

Arthur covered a snicker with his hand. “Yes, thank you, Leon, very subtle. Just be back in five minutes – it looks like apple pie and if you’re not back in time don’t think I’ll save any for you.”

“Arthur, we really should be going back to Kensington,” Leon replied as he reached the door.

Percy only smiled smugly. “Oh no, just think of all that pie going to waste.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Oh, that’s hilarious Percival.”

Percy grinned.

Arthur’s face dropped into a scowl. “I wonder if you’ll be quite so cheerful when you’re reassigned to protecting Vivian and Mithian when they visit for engagements.” He was gratified to see Percy look immediately horrified just before said bodyguard exited the room.

Arthur chuckled to himself, then looked at Merlin with a feeling somewhere between exasperation and fondness. He reached out his hand and gently pressed his fingers to Merlin’s arm. “Merlin?” he called softly. “Merlin, you’re actually asleep in your dinner.”

Merlin only frowned in his sleep and shifted away from Arthur’s voice.

Arthur rolled his eyes and got to his feet with a sigh. “If you think I’m carrying you up the stairs you’ve got another thing coming,” he muttered. He grasped Merlin’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “Merlin, seriously, you’re going to faceplant into tomato sauce and that doesn’t look good on anyone.”

Merlin cracked open one eye. “Go away.”

Arthur folded his arms at the display of petulance. “Okay, fine. I’ll leave you to sleep here, and when you wake up with food in your hair I’ll sell the pictures to the tabloids.”

Both eyes opened this time. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Arthur grinned, pulling Merlin’s arm until the other boy stood with a groan of annoyance. “Come on, upstairs.”

Merlin didn’t reply, just dropped his head forward onto Arthur’s chest and stood there like a statue.

“Merlin?” Arthur rolled his eyes again when he got no response. “Oh for f-“ He cut himself and clamped one arm around Merlin’s shoulders before half shuffling/half dragging the other boy from the kitchen.

“Use your feet, Merlin,” Arthur added as they made it to the staircase, “or I  _will_  leave you here and have Percival carry you upstairs.”

Merlin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like  _I’m not a princess_ , but Arthur couldn’t be entirely sure as it was so muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Thankfully whatever Merlin said was irrelevant as it actually got him to move his feet and it only took three short minutes (ha!) to ascend one staircase and drop Merlin on the bed.

Arthur stood there for a moment looking down at the heap of limbs and hair that was in less than six months going to be unleashed unto the world as the person who brought about the biggest change to the monarchy in a good few hundred years. Said heap was also potentially the most powerful magic user alive (Arthur was trying to refrain using the word  _wizard_ , and warlock made him sound like something from  _Twilight_ ) and, not to mention, the very same Merlin who everyone and their uncle had heard about when they were children.

Arthur shook his head slowly as he looked at Merlin sceptically. There were times when it all just seemed a little bit too mad to be real.

“I can hear you hovering,” came a mumble from the bed, Merlin’s face squashed into the pillow. “So either get over here, or go away.”

Arthur decided he might as well be in training for the world eye-rolling championships. “Go to sleep, Merlin, I’ve got to go back to the palace.”

“Don’t go to Sweden,” Merlin replied. At least Arthur assumed that’s what he said – it seemed to be missing some key vowels.

“I have to go to Sweden, Merlin,” the prince replied. “You know that.”

Merlin snored in response.

“Unbelievable,” Arthur muttered turning to leave. He hesitated when he got to the door and looked back. Merlin still hadn’t moved and Arthur was unhappy with the rising sense of guilt that was creeping up on him. He ran a hand over his face and tried to tell himself that keeping Morgause a secret for now was the right thing to do. That taking on his father’s duties was the right thing to do. That leaving Merlin, and Morgana, behind was the right thing to do.

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, leaning his forehead against the doorframe. He’d been in training for the crown his whole life, and it’s not like he was  _actually_ becoming king, but he would have liked the sense of security of having someone else with him as he tried to fill his father’s shoes.

Arthur turned, before he could talk himself out of doing something so sentimental and walked to the bed. He crouched down on the carpet and reached a hand out to run it through Merlin’s hair. “Merlin, I won’t see you before I go to Stockholm. My plane’s scheduled to leave at seven.”

Merlin mumbled something else entirely unintelligible and Arthur sighed again.

“Just-“ Arthur cut himself off as he frowned. “Just be careful for the next few days. Try not to do anything stupid.” Merlin didn’t move. “ _Please_.”

Sensing he wasn’t going to get anything coherent out of Merlin any time soon Arthur pressed his lips to the top of Merlin’s head as he stood. “Look after Morgana for me.”

He waited for a minute just in case, but Merlin remained silent. Feeling a bit stupid Arthur nodded to the room with a quiet ‘Right.” He forced himself to walk out of the room and head back to the kitchen, trying to ignore the fact that every step he took felt like a mistake.  


	24. Chapter 24

There were times when Merlin hated his friends, and dearly wished that he could be a hermit. Now,  _right_   _now_ , as he looked at the two emails he’d received in the past twenty minutes, was one of those times. It was also one of those times when it became very clear that what people said they were doing, and what people were  _actually_  doing were two completely different things.

For example, Arthur had buggered of to Sweden and was currently lounging about with the Royal Family (Merlin knew this because Arthur had felt it appropriate to email him pictures of cake). Thus Merlin was quite surprised to see Arthur’s official Twitter account start spouting comments about  how he was ‘enjoying the challenge of grappling with international relations and policy’ (he had no idea who actually updated the damn thing, but someone should probably tell them that Arthur couldn’t say ‘grappling’ without giggling – Merlin still had no idea why.)

As for why he hated his friends, well, Gwen was taking point on this one. Merlin had just come out of a meeting with Morgana and a rep from a top-flight PR agency when his computer had dinged merrily to alert him to a new email. Assuming this would be an opportunity to momentarily become busy and important - and not think about the fact they were discussing him on BBC Breakfast hours earlier - he had opened the email without even checking the sender. It hadn’t taken long for the urge to crawl into his desk drawer and stay there forever to set in.

 

 **From:**  [Gwen.Smith@LevertonPeriodicals.net](mailto:Gwen.Smith@LevertonPeriodicals.net)  
 **To:**  [MEmrys@BrighterNow.org](mailto:MEmrys@BrighterNow.org) {Secure}

 **Subject:**  Merlin, Merlin, Merlin…

_Merlin!_

_I was a bit surprised when I saw a copy of The Times yesterday, but didn’t have time to think too much about it because I was at Lance’s parents’ house for dinner and we didn’t think we should bring it up over a roast!_

_This morning I was supposed to be cataloguing some data from our Winchester office (I won’t bore you with the details), but I decided to Google you instead._

_And_

_Oh_

_My_

_God_

_Merlin!_

_As your friend (and self-appointed Pendragon expert) I thought I’d collect together the most interesting snippets from your re-emergence in the media and send them on to you (because I know you’ll probably be hiding under your bed pretending none of this exists). Trust me when I say you need to read these Merlin._

**_You NEED to read these two extracts and then look at the links._ **

_I’m assuming this is all nonsense though. I’m sure there would have been reports of bloodshed if there was any truth to any of it._

_So just read this, and then call me. We can meet for lunch._

And so Merlin  _had_ read Gwen’s handpicked extracts, knowing that if he didn’t he was going to have to go through this all again with Annis when he finished work – in fact he was surprised he hadn’t heard from her or Mordred all morning.

* * *

 

** A knight in shining armour (The Times Magazine) **

_Merlin Emrys’s association with the Royal Family has been well-documented in the press, and only recently Emrys was a key contributor for a documentary charting HRH Prince Arthur’s time at Albion University. But it is not for his relationship with the future King that Emrys is currently making headlines; photographs taken this weekend show the English Literature graduate, twenty-two, supporting HRH The Princess Royal on the night His Majesty, King Uther, was rushed to hospital after suffering a suspected heart attack._

_Emrys and Princess Morgana have often been seen in public together, and the Princess has previously spoken of her friendship with the man who saved her brother’s life. There has yet to be a statement from Clarence House, but we have been advised that a press release will be circulated later today. Public interest in the lives of the Young Royals is certainly to escalate as this story develops._

** Cosmo Online **

_Don’t lie, we’ve all been secretly wishing that Merlin Emrys was our boyfriend ever since he saved our handsome Prince’s life a couple of years ago. He’s intelligent (a first class degree from Albion), witty (remember when the Duke of Orkney told us Merlin was the funniest man he’d ever met?), BFFs with the hottest Royal in the world today, and, lest we forget, drop dead gorgeous._

_But it looks like our dreams are over. Merlin’s been snagged by Princess Morgana herself (not that we can blame her!) and the two were seen cosying up to each other over the weekend. Princess M is three years older than her man, but we think Merlin’s mature enough to handle himself in that relationship._

_So are we looking at a Royal wedding very soon? Don’t get your hopes up just yet, the palace hasn’t confirmed any relationship between the two, and Arthur’s not been linked to anyone since university so the Abbey seems like a distant dream. But for now just sit back and think about how beautiful their kids will be!_

 

_Links to:_

_[Merlinandmorganainluvs4evs.tumblr.com](http://merlinandmorganainluvs4evs.tumblr.com/) _

_[Cheekboneroyalty.tumblr.com](http://cheekboneroyalty.tumblr.com/) (Seriously Merlin, the gifs of you two are incredible!)_

* * *

 

Merlin didn’t pick up his phone to call Gwen, He actually was about to lay his head on his desk and making whining noises for the foreseeable future when he caught sight of the second email he’d received.

 

 **From:**  [MCornish@CH.pen.net](mailto:MCornish@CH.pen.net)  **{secure}**

 **To:**  [MEmrys@BrighterNow.org](mailto:MEmrys@BrighterNow.org)  **{secure}**

 **Subject** : Meeting

_Hi Merlin,_

_Sorry to bother you when you’re at work, but I thought I should give you fair warning that Annis is on her way over to the Brighter Now offices. The press release detailing your role at the BN Foundation is due to go live at noon, but she also wants to release a statement regarding your non-relationship with the Princess. We’re in the car and will be there  at 11._

_I’ll try to convince Annis to let us stop for coffee on the way – I think you might need it!_

_Mordred_

**Mordred Cornish**   
**PA to Merlin Emrys**   
  


Merlin went from experiencing trepidation (Annis is on her way!) to thankfulness (Mordred’s bringing coffee) to complete and utter choking surprise when he noticed ‘PA to Merlin Emrys’ proudly displayed at the bottom of the email. Seriously, Mordred was hi s _PA_? Wait, he  _had_ a PA?

Merlin dropped his head onto his desk, not even wincing when his forehead made contact with the wood.

 

* * *

 

“Arthur it is  _so_  nice to see you!”

Arthur choked on the slice of fruit cake he’d just popped into his mouth when he heard her shrill shriek. He fought to get his breath back, his mind unhelpfully supplying him with images of prospective headlines as he slapped his chest. He could see it now  **‘British heir felled by fruitcake’**  or simply ‘ **Cake or Death?’**

“Leon! Help him!”

_Vivian._

Leon, taking his role as protector to the future King very seriously, lazily thumped Arthur on the back a couple of times and handed him a glass of water. Arthur wasn’t sure this was standard protocol when your prince faced death by afternoon tea, but it worked anyway.

“Vivian,” Arthur eventually sputtered. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just in the area.”

“We’re in  _Sweden_ , Vivian,” Arthur replied, trying not to shout. God, this girl set him on edge.

“I know, silly,” Vivian giggled, rolling her eyes. “I’m looking at taking some international courses when I graduate from Albion.”

Arthur nodded. “Oh, right. Well, it was lovely to see you. Oh look, I think I just heard my car outside.”

“Arthur!” Vivian somehow managed to create five syllables out of his name such was the melismatic nature of her voice. “Don’t be a bore. You’ve only just arrived.”

Arthur tried to smile politely, he really did.

Leon nudged him, coughing out ‘paparazzi outside’ quietly.

 _Fuck_. Arthur wanted to start throwing cake at people, but as that was likely to get him straight onto the front page of every gossip rag in the world he chose instead to brighten his smile. “Vivian,” he crooned, “won’t you please take a seat?”

Vivian beamed and flipped her hair over he shoulder. “I’d love to, Arthur. I just  _adore_  afternoon tea.”

Arthur swallowed a groan and contemplated death by butter knife. His or Vivian’s, he wasn’t sure.


	25. Chapter 25

Leon was speeding. Stickler-for-the-rules, proper to a fault (most of the time),  ** _Leon_**  was  _speeding_. That told Arthur everything he needed to know about the dire situation he’d found himself in. For a fleeting moment he gave into the temptation to believe that he wasn’t going to get out of the situation alive. After everything he’d been through in the last few years, every magical (and non-magical) threat he’d faced and this,  _this_  was how he was going to die – death by incessant chattering.

“So I had to tell her,  _Mithy, darling, it’s time you stood on your own two feet_ , you know?” Vivian hadn’t stopped speaking in over twenty-five minutes. “She’s always followed me around; it’s because I’m thirteen minutes older. I’ve always been more mature, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that.”

Arthur gulped when Vivian finally stopped to draw breath and settled a predatory smile on him. He nodded silently eventually, too stunned to actually formulate a sentence that didn’t involve the phrase ‘for the love of everything, just bloody leave me alone’.

“I’m so pleased I ran into you today, Arthur,” Vivian continued, edging slightly closer to him.

Arthur was thrilled that her seatbelt didn’t offer much room for manoeuvre, but was immediately chagrined when he realised it still meant she could reach out a hand to curl it over his knee.

“Thank you for offering me a lift back to my hotel,” she replied.

This wasn’t exactly what had happened – Vivian had invited herself and the press camped outside the conference hotel’s restaurant had forced him into agreeing with her.

“It’s no problem,” Arthur coughed out eventually, shifting violently when Vivian’s hand trailed slightly higher. “Leon!”

The car swerved slightly at Arthur’s almost-shriek. “Yes, Arthur?” Leon replied, catching Arthur’s wide-eyed gaze of horror in the rearview mirror.

“How far from the hotel are we?” Arthur asked. “I have another meeting later,  _as you know_ , and I obviously cannot be late for it.”  _Please pretend you know what I’m talking about_ , Arthur begged silently.

“A couple of minutes,” Leon replied, and Arthur was sure his driver looked as relieved as he felt at that information. “As long as we leave  _immediately_ after dropping the Lady Vivian safely you’ll still be on time for your next meeting.”

“Oh,” Vivian looked disappointed. “Won’t you stay for tea?”

“No!” Arthur shook his head vehemently. He cleared his throat when Vivian frowned slightly. “Of course, I mean, I can’t, Vivian. I’m here on behalf of His Majesty, the King, and must ensure I attend every event punctually.” In his head he could hear Merlin laughing at him.

Vivian nodded sympathetically. “Of course.” Her hand was back on his knee. “You poor thing, taking on  _such_ responsibility. And now with Morgana making such an… _unorthodox_  choice in Merlin.”

Arthur coughed. Well, it was more like  _choking_ , but he wasn’t in the mood to split hairs about it.

“I can see you’re equally uncomfortable about it,” Vivian simpered. “I’m sure Merlin has many qualities, after all he  _is_ an acquaintance of  _yours._ ”

“Friend,” Arthur corrected on instinct. “Best friend, actually.”

Vivian’s gaze turned slightly calculating for a brief moment; just a brief flash of  _something_  in her eyes, but it was enough to make Arthur wary.

“Of course,” she continued eventually, ducking her head slightly in a parody of contrition. “You mustn’t think I meant anything negative. Just that it must have been quite a surprise to see your sister selecting a partner so outside our social circle.”

Our social circle.  _Our_ social circle. Arthur was torn somewhere between wanting to crow with laughter and wishing to bite Vivian’s head off with a slew of choice language.

“Vivian,” Arthur replied eventually, aiming to imbue his words with as much false diplomacy as possible, “I’m not really sure this is any of your business.”

Vivian didn’t even have the decency to blush. “But of course it is, Arthur. We’re practically family now.” She seemed to realise she’d made an error. “Well, not family  _family_ , I mean, it’s not like you and I are actually blood relatives.” She rested her hand on Arthur’s chest. “You and I could-“

The car swerved suddenly, and the front wheel bumped off the kerb as Leon announced, “Arthur, we’re here!”

Arthur sighed with relief as Galahad jumped out of the passenger seat and opened the door closest to Vivian. Vivian sighed as well as she turned to give Arthur a lingering look as she unclasped her seatbelt. Arthur shrank back slightly; even with Galahad blocking most of the open door Arthur could see the unmistakeable gaggle of journalists and news crews hovering near the hotel’s entrance; there was only one explanation for a gathering such as this – Vivian had tipped the press off.

“Will I see you for dinner this evening?” Vivian asked, fluttering her long eyelashes in what she clearly assumed was a coquettish manner.

Arthur tried not to blink rapidly in response. “I’m sorry, Vivian, but I already have dinner plans.”

Vivien looked irritated for a moment, before she switched her smile back up to full wattage. “Of course you do. Never mind, I’m sure we’ll see each other soon, Arthur.” She leaned closer to him, aiming for a kiss, Arthur was sure, but his phone ringing in his pocket saved the prince from dealing with the aftermath of  _that_.

“Sorry, Vivian,” Arthur replied, trying not to grin at the reprieve. “I have to answer this.” With that he turned away and swiped the phone screen, not even checking to see who it was.  Behind him Vivian  _harrumphed_ , the door closing behind her a split second later.

“Arthur?” The voice at the other end of the phone sounded confused. “Arthur are you there?”

“Well, well,” Arthur smirked into the handset, “I was just hearing about your  _unorthodox choice of boyfriend_.”

“What?” Morgana snapped.

“Vivian was just telling me how concerned she is that you’ve lowered yourself so terribly,” Arthur replied.

Morgana made an indignant noise. “I hope you bloody well told her where to go. Why were you talking to that little ingrate anyway?”

Arthur sobered slightly and sighed. “She turned up in Stockholm, Morgana. I had no idea she was here, but she’s obviously looking for some press coverage; I’ve just dropped her back at her hotel – no, don’t say anything, it was  _unavoidable_  – and half the Swedish press seemed to be camped outside.”

“That little f-“

“Okay,” Arthur replied soothingly, trying to cut off Morgana’s rant before she could really get going. “It’s okay. She’s gone, and I have no intention of letting her anywhere near me again.” Arthur frowned. “Wait, why are you calling me in the middle of the afternoon? Fuck, has something happened? Are you alright? Is Merlin a-“

“Arthur!” Morgana raised her voice enough to stop the prince. “Relax. Nothing’s happened. Well, sort of nothing.”

“What do you mean,  _sort of nothing_?” Arthur was very aware of the questioning looks both Leon and Galahad were shooting him from the front of the car as they pulled away from the hotel.

Morgana sighed. “Merlin received a phone call about five minutes ago. I think it was from Gaius.”

“And?” Arthur frowned.

“He just went tearing out of here, dragging Percy with him,” Morgana replied.

Arthur’s eyebrows made an attempt to jump through the roof of the car. “ _WHAT?_ How is  _that_  only  _sort of nothing_? Jesus Christ, Morgana, where’s he gone?”

“I don’t know,” Morgana snapped. “Probably to Gaius’?”

“And you didn’t think to maybe  _start_  the conversation with this piece of information?” Arthur scrubbed a hand through his hair. This was  _exactly_  what he’d been hoping to avoid.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Morgana growled. “I’m telling you  _now_. I’m already in the car and Elyan’s following him, okay?”

Arthur wanted to punch something. “Stay on the line. I want you to tell me the  _second_ anything looks suspicious.” He moved the phone slightly away from his ear and looked to his bodyguards. “Leon I need you try and get hold of Merlin. Galahad, I need you to call Gaius Victor; he’s Merlin’s Godfather, and he’s listed in my approved contacts.”

“Arthur?” Leon was frowning in the mirror as he pressed relevant buttons on the dashboard’s computer, bringing up Merlin’s contact details for the car’s phone system. “What’s going on?”

Arthur watched as Galahad also immediately complied with his instructions. “I don’t know, Leon,” the prince replied. “Merlin’s gone off to see Gaius in a hurry, and Morgana doesn’t know why.”

The sound of Merlin’s phone ringing filled the car and Arthur waited, fingers twisted through his seatbelt.

_You’ve reached the voicemail of Merlin Emrys._

“Fuck,” Arthur hissed.

“Are you leaving a message?” Leon asked as the recorded monologue continued.

“No,” Arthur replied. “Just keep trying him. Galahad, any luck with Gaius?”

“No answer on his landline, Arthur,” Galahad replied. “I’ll try his mobile.”

“Just keep calling until someone picks up,” Arthur replied as he put his own phone back to his ear. “Morgana, are you still there?”

“I’m here,” his sister answered. “We’re stuck in traffic on Bayswater because of those bloody roadworks.”

“And Merlin?”

“About eight cars in front of us,” Morgana replied. “Elyan’s tried calling Percy but it’s going to voicemail. I think Merlin’s doing that.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Arthur muttered in reply. “How could he be so  _stupid_? He shouldn’t be running off like that not when Morgause i-“ Arthur clamped his free hand over his mouth when he realised what he’d said. _Fuck._ Maybe Morgana hadn’t heard?

_You’ve reached the voicemail of Merlin Emrys._

 

“Arthur?” Morgana’s voice had dropped down into that deadly register Arthur didn’t like. “Arthur, why are you talking about  _Morgause_?”

“Because…” Arthur momentarily contemplated the merits of just ending the call and claiming he was in a tunnel, but then he’d have no idea what Merlin was doing.

“Voicemail again,” Galahad mumbled, automatically dialling again. Merlin’s phone wasn’t ringing at all now; just going straight to the recorded message.

_You’ve reached the voicemail of Merlin Emrys._

“Arthur, do you want me to send a team to Gaius’ house?” Leon asked redialling immediately.

“Do it,” Arthur replied. “I doubt they’ll get there in time; Bayswater’s at a standstill. Keep trying Merlin’s phone.”

“Arthur!” Morgana shouted over the phone. “What about Morgause? Morgause is dead.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face, itching to just get out of the car and run fast enough that he could somehow sort out this whole mess.  He could hear Leon barking a short, pointed message to a team in London. “Morgana, listen to me very carefully. Whatever happens do  _not_  get out of your car – Leon’s sending a team to Gaius’ house.” He sighed realised he’d been skirting the point. “I think I saw Morgause at the hospital.”

Morgana’s initial response was a sharp intake of breath.

_You’ve reached the voicemail of Merlin Emrys._

“Fuck!” This time Arthur did punch something; his fist connected with the door and he felt a twisted sense of satisfaction when he hissed in pain, the knuckles splitting where they’d collided with strengthened metal and plastic.

“Arthur?” Morgana called.

“Arthur?” Leon asked.

_You’ve reached the voicemail of Merlin Emrys._

Arthur closed his eyes and blew his breath out loudly through pursed lips.  When he spoke his voice held a note of deadly calm. “Morgana, alert Elyan that Morgause may be behind this; we can’t reach Gaius, Merlin or Percy so can’t be sure this isn’t orchestrated. Do  _not_ hang up on me.” He waited until he heard his sister start to relay his message before he turned his attention back to the car. “Leon, get us back to the hotel now. When we’re there I want direct access to the team in London – I want to know what’s going on. Galahad, I want you t-“

“Hello?” Galahad was suddenly speaking into his phone and Arthur clamped his mouth shut immediately. “Mr Victor?”

Arthur, forgetting all sense of princely poise and decorum, reached forward and tugged Galahad’s phone out of his hands. He dropped his own phone onto his lap with a hissed “Stay there, Morgana!”

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Leon frowned at him as Galahad gaped slightly at having his phone wrenched away without warning.

“Gaius, is that you?” Arthur barked into the purloined device.

“You Royal Highness?” Gaius replied, static crackling and popping loudly over the connection. “Arthur?”

“What’s happened, Gaius?” Arthur asked. “Whatever it is was enough to make Merlin think it was a good idea to race across London to you with barely any protection.”

Gaius muttered something under his breath and Arthur was sure the word  _idiot_ was used in reference to their mutual friend. “Arthur, I told him not to come here. I told him to stay somewhere safe.”

“Why?” Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. “What’s happened? Gaius?”

“A woman arrived at my house,” Gaius replied gravely, “an  _impossible_  woman.”

“Morgause?” Arthur gulped. He swore he could hear sirens getting louder on the other end of the phone.

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end. “You knew she wasn’t dead?”

Arthur blanched further at the accusatory note in Gaius’ tone. “We had our suspicions.”

“But Merlin sounded surprised when I told him.”

_You’ve reached the voicemail of Merlin Emrys._

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed as a little voice in his head started berating him for his stupidity. “I hadn’t shared those suspicions with Merlin. Yet.”

“Oh.” Gaius sighed heavily.

“Gaius, please, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Gaius replied. “I think she used some sort of magic to knock me out. When I woke up my library was on fire and I saw her walking out of the front door.” Another pause. “She has Guinevere’s book, Arthur.”

Arthur sucked in a breath. “Are you alright, Gaius? Your house?”

“I’m alright, Arthur. I can’t say the same for my house though.”

Arthur tightened his hand over the phone and frowned when he heard Morgana shrieking at him from the handset on his lap. He raised it to his ear immediately. “Morgana?”

“He got out of the car, Arthur!” Morgana was still shouting. “I need to go after him!”

“No! Morgana, no!” Arthur snapped, desperation clinging to every syllable now. “Please don’t. I can’t have both of you in danger. Please, just get Elyan to take you to St James’.”

“Arthur, Percy’s just got out of the car too,” Morgana replied, clearly having no intention of telling Elyan to go anywhere, although Arthur was gratified not to hear any doors opening. “He’s running after him. Bloody fuck he’s just left the car in the middle of Bayswater!”

Arthur gripped both phones tightly. “Morgana, stay in the car. Please God go back to St James, Kensington,  _anywhere_. Just stay away from Gaius’ house.”

“Is it her?” Morgana’s voice was suddenly smaller than Arthur had ever heard it.

“Yes,” he replied. It was no use to try and sugar-coat reality.

“Arthur?” Gaius asked quietly. “If it helps at all, I don’t think she’s here anymore.”

Arthur swallowed heavily, trying to tell himself that it would be fine. Everything would be  _fine_. “Gaius, when that complete, and absolute  _imbecile_  arrives can you tell him that he is to go with Leon’s team and that I’ll kill him myself if he even  _thinks_  about disobeying?”

“Of course,” Gaius replied immediately.

_You’ve reached the voicemail of Merlin Emrys._

Arthur dropped his head to his chest, feeling ridiculous with a phone to each ear. “I’ll stay on the line,” he said quietly. “Until we find Merlin.”


	26. Chapter 26

 Alright, fine, maybe this  _wasn’t_  the best idea he’d ever had. A vague recollection of Arthur telling him not to do anything stupid zipped through his mind. He winced as the momentary distraction had him bumping his wrist painfully against the wing mirror of a parked car as he darted across Warrington Crescent. Percy’s footsteps had grown slightly fainter, but Merlin was under no illusion that if he hadn’t employed a little magic Percy wouldn’t have caught up with him by now. A few well-timed traffic light changes and a dog walker’s selection of pugs tangling themselves around the bodyguard’s legs had given Merlin the distance he’d needed to ensure he could reach Gaius without Royal intervention.

            The sirens in the distance were getting louder and as he rounded the corner and powered across Maida Vale at a sprint he could see a noxious black plume of smoke rising into the crisp winter sky. He shivered slightly in the knowledge that Morgause could be anywhere, just waiting around a corner for him, but he wouldn’t be Merlin if he wouldn’t gladly risk his life if it meant he could protect the people he loved. Although, he really could have done without needing to sprint across London for the second time in recent memory.

            Finally,  _finally_ , Gaius’ house came into view and Merlin stopped dead in his tracks. Flames were licking the roof as the whorl of smoke devoured the upper floors of the houses surrounding his Godfather’s home. It was only the sight of a familiar figure with silver hair that sent Merlin staggering towards the cordon that had been placed by the fire brigade.

            “Gaius!” Merlin yelled. “Gaius!”

            Gaius turned and pinned Merlin with an expression that morphed instantly from concern to irritation. As Merlin reached his Godfather he was stopped from flinging his arms around him when Gaius held out his mobile phone.

            Merlin looked stupidly at the phone then back up to where Gaius’ right eyebrow was arching dangerously.

            “Someone wants to talk to you,” was all Gaius said  before pressing the phone into Merlin’s hand and wandering off to talk to a fireman.

            Merlin blinked in surprise; okay, this wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting. He looked at the phone with a rising sense of trepidation. It was one of two people, both of whom would probably unleash a tirade of angry words the second he said hello. It wasn’t a good day to realise that your mother and your boyfriend both had the same talent of reducing you to a nervous wreck.

            “Hello?” It was barely a whisper, and Merlin was already crinkling his eyes shut waiting for the proverbial blow.

            A rush of air was all that greeted him, however, and he opened his eyes a crack with a frown. Maybe they’d been cut off, maybe they-

            “Merlin.”

            It was Arthur, and Merlin’s stomach coiled at how wrecked the prince sounded.  _Fuck_. Merlin hadn’t really been thinking when he’d yanked Percy out of the office and down to the waiting car; his mind already whammied by the number of requests for comments he was receiving from newspapers after the press release had gone live at lunchtime, he’d only heard that Morgause was in Maida Vale and Gaius was in danger before he’d thrown himself from his desk chair and hurried from his office. But now, with the harsh reality of the fire down the road, and the blessedly grumpy figure of Gaius, Merlin’s brain was taking the time to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be doing this to Arthur anymore. That he was supposed to be being careful.

            “Merlin?” Arthur was speaking again, a note of discernable panic in his voice. “Merlin, are you there?”

            “I’m here, Arthur,” Merlin replied quietly. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I had to get here. I had to make sure Gaius was alright. Arthur, it was-“

            “Morgause,” Arthur replied, his voice now as flat as Merlin had ever heard it.  “I know.”

            “Gaius told you,” Merlin concluded with a sight.

            Silence on the other end of the line.

            Merlin frowned. “Arthur?”

            “Gaius didn’t need to tell me,” Arthur replied. “Merlin, I knew about Morgause because-“

            The cold creeping feeling that had skittered through Merlin’s veins when he’d first heard that Gaius had seen Morgause surged under his skin as the Prince cut himself off. “Because what, Arthur?”

            “Merlin, can we please have this conversation when you’re safe back at the palace?” Arthur sighed wearily. “Please?”

            “Because  _what_?” Merlin snapped, dread wrapping its way around his emotions and morphing his fear into suspicion and anger.

            “I saw her at the hospital,” Arthur replied eventually. “It’s why I didn’t come straight back after the press conference.”

            Merlin blinked. Blinked again. Arthur had known Morgause was alive and hadn’t said anything? Wasn’t he the one who had been campaigning for full transparency in their relationship since the very beginning?

            Merlin took the phone away from his ear and looked at it for a long moment before pressing the button to end the call with a shake of his head.

            “Merlin!” Percy appeared, not even remotely out of breath, at his side. The bodyguard was glaring slightly. “Jesus, Merlin, you’ve got to stop doing this.”

            “Yeah,” Merlin replied slowly. “Yeah. Sorry, Percy.”

            “Merlin, are you alright?” Percy was frowning at him now.

            “Yeah,” Merlin replied, feeling disconnected from reality. “Yeah, I just need to speak to Gaius.”

            Percy nodded, pulling out his own phone .

            Merlin turned and pushed through the growing crowd of spectators. Gaius was about twenty feet away nodding intently as a fireman gestured towards the house. He hesitated for a second before changing direction and walking towards a nearby police officer.

            “Excuse me?” Merlin said quietly as he approached her.

            “Yes?” She gave Merlin a quick once over, a slight question in her eyes.

            “The man over there with the white hair,” Merlin pointed to Gaius. “I think he dropped this. Could you give it back to him, please?”

            The police officer frowned slightly. “That’s very honest of you. Wouldn’t you like to return it to him yourself?”

            “No thanks,” Merlin replied quickly. “He looks busy and I really need to be going.”

            “Of course,” she replied taking the phone, and Merlin was sure there was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. “Thank you.”

            Merlin nodded shortly and turned away. He could see Percy in the distance, speaking quickly into his phone. With a quick scan of the crowd Merlin could count at least eight other men he recognised from the Pendragon security teams. His gaze finally fell on the assortment of fire engines and police cars blocking the road. He narrowed his eyes and felt the change in the air a split second before every siren in the vicinity began to blare loudly, followed a split second later by the wail of car alarms.

            As expected the crowd all turned in different directions, covering their ears against the onslaught of noise. Merlin ducked low and hurried out of the residential road before running full pelt down Abbey Road, miraculously dodging a group of tourist waiting for their turn to enact a certain rather famous album cover just up the road from the Studios. 

            He carried on running with no real idea of where he was going, turning left and right whenever his magic seemed to suggest it.  He didn’t want to think about Arthur, he didn’t want to think about secrets, he didn’t want to think about anything other than finding Morgause and ending this.

            He stopped for a moment, the stitch in his side almost unbearable and turned to see a bus heading towards him; destination marked in yellow as Lancaster Gate. He sighed with relief, thanking whichever power would listen as he hobbled to the bus stop and waved it down.

            There was only one creature in the universe that could help him now. 


	27. Chapter 27

“ _You_ , Arthur Pendragon, are a bloody fuckwit. Are you aware of that?”

Arthur winced. His head had been aching  _before_  his sister had called to verbally abuse him five minutes earlier. He held the phone away from his ear and pressed the heel of his hand against his cheekbone. “Morgana, please j-“

“A  _fuckwit,_  Arthur,” Morgana continued, perhaps even more shrilly. “Do you need me to spell it for you? It’s starts with an ‘f’ and ends in ‘uckwit’!”

Leon pretended he wasn’t listening to the conversation in the backseat and concentrated on driving the car in a straight line towards the airport. Arthur was convinced that if his bodyguard gripped the steering wheel any tighter it would actually shatter. Seriously, put the man in the line of fire and he’d take a bullet for whomever he was protecting, but Leon was still incapable of coping with Pendragon histrionics.

“Morgana,” Arthur sighed, “if you’d just listen to me-“

“No, Arthur,” Morgana continued unabated, “I’m  _not_  going to listen to you. In fact, nobody should  _ever_  listen to you. Jesus Christ, what are you going to do to this country when you actually have to make decisions?”

Arthur bristled. Okay, fine, so he was a complete tit when it came to judgements about certain things ( _Merlin_ , his mind supplied helpfully), but Morgana was crossing a line now, and he damn well wasn’t going to listen to h-

“Arthur, you better bloody well be listening to  _me_!” Morgana hissed. “You should have told us about Morgause. How could you possibly think you were keeping anyone safe by hiding that from us? Arthur, you  _know_  what Merlin’s like – he was going to run off after her no matter how he found out the news, but don’t you think it would have been better to hear it from  _you_?”

“Yes, Morgana,” Arthur snapped, and the car did swerve slightly. “ _Yes_ , alright, is that what you want me to say?”

“It’s not about what I want you to say, Arthur,” Morgana responded with equal vitriol.

“Oh really?” Arthur sneered.

Morgana was silent for a long moment and Arthur grimaced at his immature response.

“You’re a child.” Morgana’s voice was dangerously low when she replied. “You are  _not_  King Arthur of Camelot. This is  _not_  a  _story_ , Arthur. This is life. Yours, Merlin’s, mine.  _Everyone_  in this country is in danger with Morgause out there, and you decide to play hero. You might be the one who gets to wear that crown one day, but you are not the only person who cares about this country. And you certainly are  _not_  the only one who gets to decide how Morgause is stopped.”

Arthur felt very small. Morgana was right, of course.  _Why did Morgana always have to be bloody right?_

“Morgana,” Arthur no more than whispered a few seconds later. “I need you to find him for me.”

Morgana was silent for a few seconds. “I’ll call you if I hear anything. Just make your excuses and get back to London.”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn’t get an apology to form on his tongue. Not when a paltry  _sorry_ wasn’t going to be anywhere near good enough.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Morgana sighed.

Arthur closed his eyes as the call disconnected. Oh, and weren’t those words just his  _life_?

 

**ooOOoo**

“Ah, Merlin, I’ve been expecting you.” Kilgarrah gave the Dragon equivalent of a smirk as the warlock in question appeared around the corner.

Said warlock responded with an uncanny impression of Gaius’ raised eyebrow. Specifically it was an impression of Gaius’ raised eyebrow when he was feeling particularly irritated (this was actually catalogued as Eyebrow #4 in Merlin’s mind).

“I see you are aware of the witch’s return,” Kilgarrah replied.

“Why do you do that?” Merlin snapped, irritated. “Why do you know useful  things like this and just keep them to yourself? Have you always been like this? You know,  _annoying_.”

Kilgarrah remained silent for a long moment. “It is  _not_ my place, young warlock, to tell you what to do. I have remained only to guide you.”

“To guide me?” Merlin scoffed. “That’s what you do, is it? Because from down here it looks like you just get more cryptic as time goes on.”

Kilgarrah roared suddenly and Merlin stepped backwards involuntarily; his back hitting solid rock as a stream of flame rushed towards him. Merlin held up his hand on instinct and deflected the tongues of fire away from him.

“What the hell was that?” Merlin shouted. “Are you  _trying_  to kill me?’

Kilgarrah growled. “You would do well to listen, young warlock, to understand just how vulnerable you would be without the help of so many others. I fulfilled my role on the day you failed to save your King the first time. I was to die as the last of my kind, but that did not come to pass.”

Merlin frowned.

“I did not die,” Kilgarrah replied. “But nor did you. Not truly. Nor am I the last of my kind.”

“Are you saying there are more dragons?” Merlin asked, surprise tempering the residual horror he’d felt at Kilgarrah’s burst of flame.

“Just one, Merlin,” Kilgarrah replied. “You brought her into this world, but she was changed beyond recognition. I believed she had died as I should have done; but with the reappearance of the witch I am no longer certain that the one you named Aithusa is but dust.”

Merlin swallowed heavily. “Do you mean that Morgause has control of this dragon? Aithusa?”

Kilgarrah bowed his head slightly. “She cannot truly have control over that which is not bound by magic to answer her.”

Merlin frowned again.

“Find Aithusa,  Merlin,” Kilgarrah replied, suddenly sounding wearier than Merlin had ever heard him. “If you find Aithusa you will find the witch.”

“Will Morgause stay dead this time?” Merlin asked eventually. “And then it’ll be over, right?”

“Morgause is a key to the puzzle, Merlin,” Kilgarrah replied, stretching his wings, “but she is nothing more than that.”

Merlin was instantly enveloped by a sense of dread. Morgause wasn’t at the centre of this? He opened his mouth to ask another question but the old dragon was already rearing up.

The flap of ancient wings drowned out anything Merlin wanted to say; the rush of air snuffing out the light.

“Great.” Merlin hissed into the dark. “I’m bringing a bloody torch next time. A proper one.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” Arthur mumbled through his scarf. He was clutching a horrible takeout coffee in one hand, and his ominously silent phone in the other as Leon drove him through London.

“Your Father, or Merlin?” Leon asked eventually as he navigated through the traffic near Kensington Palace.

“Either,” Arthur replied quietly. “Both, probably.”

“Your father will be pleased to see you dealing with a magical threat,” Leon replied, and without even looking Arthur could hear the disgusted expression on Leon’s face.

Arthur sighed again. If nothing else the reappearance of Morgause was yet another nail in the coffin of Arthur convincing his father that not all magic was evil. After all, Morgause was pretty much the poster girl for megalomaniacal sorceresses everywhere.

He looked down at his phone again; as silent as it had been since he’d boarded the jet in Stockholm.

“Oh for f-“ Leon cut himself off with a hiss as he made to turn into Kensington Palace Gardens.

“What?” Arthur looked up, immediately alert. What he saw made his lip curl in annoyance. “Fucking vultures.” It appeared that Arthur’s swift exit from Sweden had been noticed if the crowd of news crews at the gates was anything to go by. Guaranteed they were going to think it was something to do with Uther.

Leon turned quickly. The security barrier flying up for a split second as the car roared underneath. Arthur was immensely grateful for blacked out windows as he saw cameras pushed up against the glass even as the car hurtled by the journalists.

“They’ve got a death wish,” Galahad breathed as Leon slowed the car and took the turn through the second set of gates.

Morgana was leaning against the wall, her (no doubt) horribly expensive heels digging into the gravel below. She was wearing them, Arthur was sure, because they made her about five inches taller and thus even more intimidating than usual.

Arthur, however, was  _not_  in the mood.

“Do you know where he is?” Arthur barked as he strode towards the door, head held as high as he’d dare when Morgana was on the warpath.

“Yes,” Morgana responded in a clipped tone.

Arthur stopped when his sister stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his entrance to the palace. “And?”

Morgana snorted. “I’m not telling you.”

Arthur reared back slightly. “Seriously? You’re really not going to tell me where Merlin is?”

“Exactly,” Morgana replied. “Because you’re an idiot; because he  _asked_  me not to tell you;  _and_ ,” Morgana held up one perfectly manicured finger, “because he’s probably safer nowhere near you right now.”

Arthur could feel the beginnings of another headache and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where is he, Morgana? He can’t just run off on a whim and think he’ll be safe.”

Morgana shook her head and grasped Arthur’s arm tightly.

“Ow,” Arthur barked, his sister’s nails digging through his jacket as she wrenched him into the palace.

“You fucked up, Arthur,” Morgana prodded him in the chest when they stopped walking. “You didn’t tell us about Morgause and now Merlin is doing what he always does.”

“Yeah, running off and-“

“Saving your ungrateful arse,” Morgana spat. “ _That_  is what he is always doing. And you know what, Arthur? I’m done helping you try not to be a complete prat because you’re clearly not capable of being anything else.”

“Hey!” Arthur snarled, stepping forwards to glare down at Morgana, who didn’t even flinch. “I thought I was doing the right thing, Morgana. I was trying to protect you both.”

“Yeah?” Morgana shot him a mocking smile that twisted almost immediately into ugly disappointment. “And you remember how well that worked out for you before? You,  _dead_  on a battlefield.”

Arthur swallowed heavily. “Don’t bring that up, Morgana.”

“Why not?” she snarled. “After everything you’ve seen and heard, you  _know_ Merlin will always,  _always_  risk his life where you’re concerned. So do everyone a favour, Arthur, and get off your bloody noble high horse and really, truly  _trust_   _him_  before you end up getting us all killed.”

Morgana shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and stalking towards the staircase.

Arthur let out the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding and curled his hands into a fist. With a roar of frustration he lashed out at the wood panelled wall to his left, barely grimacing as his knuckles split against the wood. He dropped his head to his chest in defeat. “Fuck.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Well, this is nice,” Gwen smiled as she passed around a plate of Jaffa Cakes. “Even under the circumstances.”

“Gwen, I’m really sorry,” Merlin said sheepishly from where he was wedged on the tiny sofa between Percy and Lancelot.

“No,” Gwen shook her head, “Merlin, really, we’ve missed you. I’m glad you came here. We’ll work something out. Even if it’s a bit of a squash.”

“Yeah,” Lance chimed in brightly. “The more the merrier.”

Merlin nodded, stuffing a Jaffa Cake in his mouth with a weak smile. He didn’t believe a word of it though; how merry could it be when he was hiding out in a tiny flat with two of his best friends, his bodyguard, his PA and his  _Godfather_? Oh, and did he mention that he currently wasn’t speaking to the Prince of Wales, his location was known only to the Princess Royal, and he had a sorceress out for his blood?

Percy shifted slightly, looking disgruntled, and Merlin had to wiggle out of the way.

“Are you sure this is the safest place to be?” the bodyguard asked, looking entirely unconvinced. “Under the circumstances St James’ or Clarence House would be preferable.”

Merlin shook his head. “I’m not staying. I only wanted you all together so that you’re all aware of what’s going on. Now you know, I’m leaving and I can’t tell you where I’m going.”

“Merlin,” Percy muttered dangerously.

“No, Percy,” Merlin shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Arthur and Morgana need as much protection as they can get. I’ll be fine. I can defend myself.”

“Merlin!” Gwen, Lance and Gaius cried in horror at the same time.

Mordred unfolded himself from his uncomfortable looking perch on the floor. “Merlin, can I have a word?”

“Mordred,” Merlin shook his head, “look I know Annis is going to hit the roof over this, but that’s why I wanted you here, so you can come up with some brilliant press release telling the world I’ve temporarily moved to Minsk or something.”

“Please.”

Merlin frowned at how serious Mordred looked. “Yeah, okay,” he sighed with a shrug. “Kitchen.”

Mordred nodded and led the way out of the small living room into the kitchen and shut the door behind him.

“Merlin, I need to tell you something,” Mordred’s gaze dropped to his shoes. “And I know this is going to be a bit of a surprise, but please, just hear me out, okay?”

Merlin tilted his head with a frown. “Okay. That sounds ominous.”

Mordred grimaced before flicking his wrist at the kitchen counter. Merlin’s jaw dropped as the pepper grinder slid from one side of the Formica to the other without being touched.

Merlin’s hands went up defensively on instinct. “You have  _magic_?” he hissed. “How?”

Mordred held his palms up. “I don’t know. I was born with it. I didn’t really know anyone else had magic until I ended up at Clarence House. And now there’s you, and Princess Morgana a-“

“Who said anything about Morgana?” Merlin felt his voice quiver slightly. How could he possibly know that?

Mordred sighed. “I was there when Morgause tried to kill you last year. It was me that made her disappear. Although, I had actually been aiming for something more  _permanent_.”

Merlin appeared to have lost the ability to form words. Apparently there was someone other than the Pendragon siblings who possessed the skill to render him speechless.

“I know about… _before_ ,” Mordred said eventually. “A little bit. Not everything.”

Merlin had to lean back so he was resting against the sink. “About before? How, Mordred? I don’t remember you at all.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Mordred replied quietly.

“What?” A dead weight seemed to have settled in Merlin’s stomach. “Who were you Mordred?”

Mordred closed his eyes and slowly released a breath.

“Mordred?” Merlin prompted, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. “Mordred,  _who were you_?”

Mordred swallowed heavily. “I’m the one who killed Arthur.”


	28. Chapter 28

_It was freezing cold. A few stray gusts of wind whipped around Merlin as he stumbled down the rocky path to the battlefield below. The carnage was evident from the moment he stepped around the last outcrop; bodies littered the ground, almost equally bearing the insignia of Arthur’s knights and Saxony forces. A macabre canvas of colour, symbols and faces all obscured by dirt and blood._

_The bitter tang of copper and steel hung in the air and Merlin gagged slightly at the stench, bringing a hand to his age-worn face as he recognised knights from Camelot’s various campaigns over the previous decade. He knew these men. He’d marched alongside them, laughed with them, **fought** with them (not that they’d known)._

_He wanted to mourn them, to take just a_ moment _to acknowledge the passing of these men who had given their lives for the same cause Merlin had laboured for since his arrival in Uther’s kingdom when he was barely more than a boy; perhaps since the day he was born._

_But he couldn’t take a moment, not when every single fibre of his being screamed for his legs to propel him forwards. The sense of trepidation that had lanced through his chest minutes earlier was growing with every second, and his feet finally carried him towards the place he had last spotted his King. Spotted Arthur, who had been throwing himself headlong into danger since before Merlin was even aware of his existence._

_The staff he’d used in his attack on the Saxons was suddenly required to bear the entire weight of the warlock as the focus of his search suddenly came into view. The vice that had been slowly inching towards closure around his heart finally clamped shut with a resounding snap. The staff fell to the floor as Merlin drew in a shaky breath; his head pounding with a silent mantra of ‘_ No, please, Arthur, you can’t be dead. Please no, please, **please** , no! ** _’_**

_Moving with an agility hampered only slightly by his guise as the old sorcerer, Merlin hurried forward and dropped to his knees beside his fallen charge.  Merlin had never felt such a sharp sense desperation as he did in that moment. On the occasions before when he’d thought Arthur lost there had been a more solid glimmer of hope fluttering at the corners of his consciousness for him to cling to. But now? Now his hand flew desperately to Arthur’s clammy cheek as Merlin fought the urge to scream and roar at anyone who would listen amongst this wasteland of honour. How could he have been too late? He should have been there, **at Arthur’s side.** Mordred wouldn’t have had time to even contemplate drawing his sword before Merlin would have rounded on him; extinguishing the former knight from existence without a second thought._

_The truth – the awful, cloying truth of the matter – was that Merlin had failed. He had failed Arthur, failed everyone who had believed in his ability to protect his King, and failed himself._

_Failed Destiny._

_Merlin could barely bring himself to allow his gaze to wander from Arthur’s face as he lifted the King into his arms and stumbled to his feet. He held Arthur close as he stepped over Mordred’s body, sparing only a brief glance for the one Merlin was sure he would hunt down even after death._

Merlin sucked in a breath, then another in close succession. He felt like he was suffocating as his hands flew behind him to grip the edges of the sink, his knees barely able to hold him upright as they buckled dangerously beneath the weight of abject failure.

“Merlin!”

“No, no, no,” Merlin shook his head, tasting blood on his tongue as he tried to force his eyes to close. The kitchen tilted around him, with the rolling salmon pink walls causing his stomach to twist in sudden nausea.

Mordred had killed Arthur.

Mordred had killed Arthur  **because Merlin hadn’t stopped him.**

**Merlin had failed.**

Morgana’s machinations might have expedited the ending of the story, but it was Merlin’s fault that Arthur had met Mordred’s sword in battle.

“Merlin?”

“Mordred,” Merlin choked out as his vision momentarily focused on the young man standing before him. “You.”

“Merlin, you need to listen to me,” Mordred replied, his hands raised in supplication. “Merlin, please, I told you because I know you have that book, I knew you’d find out anyway.”

Merlin was fairly certain his chest was caving in, the pressure on his lungs so great he was forced to try and blink away the black spots at the edge of his vision.

“Merlin,” Mordred tried again.

“No!” Merlin’s voice strained to be anything more than a whisper. He tried to clear his head of the rising cacophony of screaming that was threatening to deafen him. He attempted to latch on to his magic, but he couldn’t catch even the thinnest strand for long enough to focus.

He couldn’t let Mordred leave. Couldn’t let him near Arthur again. He  _needed_  his magic to stop Mordred.  _Why couldn’t he focus?_

“Merlin, please,” Mordred took a step closer, “you need to listen to me. You need to calm down. Please.”

Merlin’s face twisted into hatred as he struggled to find any shred of power that would allow him to end Mordred now. This time he wasn’t going to make the mistake of letting him live.

No sooner had the thought of Mordred’s impending death entered his mind did Merlin feel a final squeeze around his chest that had him crumpling to his knees.

“Merlin?” Mordred looked horrified. And wasn’t that odd, Merlin thought vaguely. Odd that Mordred should look so troubled as Merlin fell to his knees. Odd that Mordred would call for help when he was clearly here to kill Merlin.

 _Odd_. That was all Merlin could think as he slithered bonelessly to the floor, his face pressed against the cold linoleum as coloured shards rained down around him, sharply biting into his cheek.

And then nothing.

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur tapped the fingers of his left hand impatiently on his desk, his eyes flickering between his bruised knuckles and the perpetually silent phone. Gaius didn’t know where Merlin had gone and Morgana was still refusing to tell him; not that he blamed her. Yes, fine, he was more than a little pissed off that his sister had taken Merlin’s side again, but then again that was Morgana to a T, wasn’t it? He’d expect nothing less. Nor would he want anything less.

Arthur knew he could easily find out where Merlin was. All he had to do was call Percy and demand an explanation. In fact he didn’t even need to do that; Leon would have Merlin and Percy’s phones tracked in an instant if he thought it was the right thing to do.

The desk phone suddenly trilled and the prince nearly toppled off his chair in surprise. He grappled for the receiver and held it up to his ear, almost dropping it in his haste. “Hello?”

“Your Royal Highness,” the smooth female voice on the other end of the line was vaguely familiar as one of Annis’ many underlings. “I’m calling on behalf of Clarence House.”

“Yes,” Arthur replied. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all, Sir,” the woman replied. “Annis would like you to approve the wording of today’s press release on your father’s health before it is circulated after your visit to the hospital this evening.”

Arthur swallowed heavily and ran a hand across his brow. How could there possibly be so much going wrong in his life at once? “Of course,” he replied. “Will you be emailing it, or should I expect a hard copy?”

“I can have it emailed to you now. Annis would also like you to know that His Majesty, the King has been in contact with her this morning about the anniversary celebrations next month.”

“What?” Arthur sputtered, before remembering himself. “I mean, His Majesty is focusing on matters of state from the hospital?”

“It would appear to be the case, Sir,” the woman replied, and Arthur could hear an edge of amusement. “His Majesty is intending to hold the annual dinner at Buckingham Palace. I am to inform you that Mr Emrys has been included on the list of proposed attendees as a guest of His Majesty.”

_His father had suffered a heart attack and was planning a party._

_A party Merlin was now officially invited to._

_Merlin who was God knows where, probably doing something ridiculously brave (and stupid) and probably didn’t even want to go to a bloody party at the palace._

_Christ_ , Arthur needed to get a handle on his life fairly quickly if he was going to make it through the year.

“Your Royal Highness?”

Arthur shook his head. “Yes, sorry. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll approve the wording as soon as possible.”

“You’re welcome. Good day, Sir.”

The telephone clicked before Arthur could reciprocate the valediction.

The door to his office opened without any warning and Arthur looked up with a frown. Leon was standing there, opening and closing his mouth like an overgrown goldfish.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and pushed himself to his feet, fists resting on the desk in front of him. “Leon, what is it?”

Leon seemed to brace himself and Arthur clenched his hands tighter.

“Arthur,” Leon said carefully. “We have a… _situation_.”

Arthur blinked. “A situation?”

Leon clasped his hands together and took a step closer to the prince. “Firstly, just be aware that everyone is okay.”

“What?” Arthur could feel a familiar chill creeping up his spine. “What’s happened?”

Leon winced slightly. “It sounds like there was an altercation between Merlin and his PA.”

Arthur’s right fist slipped and he had to reach his palm out quickly to ensure he didn’t awkwardly drop onto the disk. “What?” he hissed, stalking towards Leon. “What do you mean by  _altercation_?”

“Remember what I said about everyone being okay!” Leon took a step away from the historically volatile young man in front of him, “Merlin took himself to his friends’ flat.”

“Lance and Gwen?”

Leon nodded. “He called Percy after he arrived and asked him to bring Mordred Cornish from Clarence House and meet him there without informing you.”

Arthur looked skyward. “I should fire most of my security team. They’re always on Merlin’s bloody side.”

Leon’s lips actually quirked slightly at that. “Might I remind you, Arthur, that your security team would gladly risk their lives for Merlin, as he has done for them and  _you_?”

Arthur scrubbed a hand through his hair. It was true, and he knew it. “So how did it go from Merlin requesting Mordred’s presence to whatever the hell happened next?”

“ _That_ ,” Leon gave a vague hand gesture, “is the part I’m not too certain of. According to Percy, Mordred asked to speak to Merlin alone in the kitchen. They were in there for a couple of minutes before, and I quote, ‘all hell broke loose.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off as his sister barrelled into the room.

“Arthur,” Morgana announced breathlessly, “I know I said I wasn’t telling you where Merlin was, and I still think you’re a fuckwit, but I think you need to go to him.”

Arthur looked quickly between his sister and Leon. “I thought you said everyone was alright,” he glared accusingly at Leon, before rolling down his sleeves and fastening the cuffs.

Morgana seemed to notice Leon’s presence for the first time and looked slightly contrite. “Ah.”

“Morgana,” Arthur turned to his sister and gestured for Leon to follow them out of the office, “what do you know that I, and Leon apparently, don’t?”

Morgana sighed. “Look,” she whispered as they descended the staircase together, “I don’t know exactly what happened, but Gwen called me. She was really upset. Apparently Mordred said something to Merlin that resulted in every breakable item in the kitchen being destroyed.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and he nearly tripped down the last couple of steps. “He destroyed a  _kitchen_? What the hell did Mordred say to him?”

Morgana winced and looked around to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “Gwen said Merlin was freaking out about you. She said that-“ Morgana but her lip.

“She said  _what_ , Morgana?” Arthur asked, his hand stilling on his collar as he pulled on his coat.

“She said that Merlin kept repeating something about not letting Mordred near you  _this time_ ” She emphasised the final two words with a widening of her eyes. “Merlin said he’d kill Mordred.”

Leon grabbed Arthur’s arm suddenly, as if the threat of death anywhere was enough for his professional protective instinct to kick in.

Arthur swallowed heavily. This wasn’t the first time Merlin had threatened to kill someone -he seemed to do that quite a lot when Arthur was in danger – and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time if Merlin decided to go through with that threat. But Arthur’s stomach churned anyway as he remembered how distraught Merlin had been in Paris oh so many years ago now, when Sophia had nearly drowned the prince and Merlin had subsequently scattered the Sidhe into the ether. For Merlin to turn on Mordred something terrible must have happened.

“Morgana,” Arthur turned to his sister as they reached the door, “do you know anything about Mordred? Remember anything?” He hated to ask and tried to ignore the flicker of hurt on Morgana’s face at the implication in Arthur’s question.

The princess shook her head. “I don’t remember him at all. Go and find Merlin, Arthur.  He’s a better man than he’s been forced to be in the past.”

Arthur nodded and Leon remained quiet at his side. He was smart, was Leon, and Arthur was sure he had a very clear idea of exactly what was going on.

The prince sighed heavily. “Let’s go get Merlin. We’ll sort this out, and then I’m taking the first opportunity to bugger off to Meribel for a week. A week where the most dangerous thing will be Merlin let loose with a pair of skis.”

Morgana smiled slightly. “Good idea. DO you want me to come with you? I could talk to Gwen, maybe?”

Arthur nodded. “Thanks, Morgana.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Morgana grinned. “I’ll be tormenting you again by this evening.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was slumped at Gwen and Lance’s kitchen table. His shoulders were rolled forward in defeat as his face rested in his hands. Gwen had stopped shrieking in horror at this stage, and Lance was dutifully brushing up the shards of former mugs and the mangled toaster that littered the floor.

Percy was hovering between the kitchen and living room; his attention divided between his charge’s newly apparent tendencies and the magical PA sitting on the sofa with Gaius.

Merlin had never felt such rage as he had when he’d remembered how Mordred’s actions had directly contributed to Arthur’s death. How his  _own_ actions had led to the same fate. His head was still pounding and his magic felt as though a greater force had locked it down inside him; leaving him unable to harm Mordred in any way.

Merlin lifted his head slightly and noted that Mordred seemed to be in serious discussion with Gaius. He felt his hands shaking as he watched the exchange; Mordred looked distraught, and Gaius seemed to be trying to offer some comfort. Merlin had never dealt with jealousy brilliantly, and he was ashamed by just how betrayed he felt seeing his Godfather talking to the other young man.

A hurried knock at the door had Merlin groaning into his hands again. There was only one person on the planet that could manage to knock in such a haughty manner. Even when that said person was supposed to be in a different country.

“Merlin!”

Merlin’s head whipped up at the sound of Arthur’s voice; an instinctive reaction even though he’d been expecting the prince. Arthur looked mildly horrified as he watched his former schoolmate scrabbling around on the floor with a dustpan and brush.

“Arthur,” Lance casually threw the greeting over his shoulder as though he wasn’t kneeling in the remnants of his crockery.

“Lance.” Arthur replied, still gaping at the mess. “Hi, Gwen.”

Gwen shot the prince a weak smile. “Arthur. We weren’t sure whether to expect you.”

“I told him you called.”

Merlin  _did_ start in surprise this time when Morgana spoke. She and Leon appeared behind Arthur’s shoulder. Right. So  _everyone_ knew about the kitchen incident then.

“Um.” Arthur cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Can I just…” He trailed off, looking around at the others and gesturing vaguely in Merlin’s direction.

Merlin looked through to the living room once more and was unsettled by how pale Mordred’s face had gone. He looked drawn and far older than he was. He grimaced as Gwen and Lance shuffled out of the room behind Morgana and Leon. Percy gave Arthur a final nod before closing the door and leaving the prince and the sorcerer alone.

Merlin was immediately reminded of his birthday brush with the Griffin a few years earlier. He and Arthur had danced around their fear of losing each other that night as well; it never failed to bring out the worst in them, and Merlin was displaced that a similarly awkward silence filled the space between them. All the while Merlin’s gaze remained pointedly on the chipped wood of the kitchen table.

Arthur was the one to break the hush eventually.

“Merlin…” Arthur sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier.”

Merlin looked up, his forehead creasing into a frown. Arthur was apologising? Was everyone suddenly forgetting about the fact that Merlin had announced he was going to kill Mordred? Surely that was the headline of the moment?

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, I heard about the murder threat, Merlin, and we’ll get to that in a second. But can you just let me apologise first?”

Merlin remained silent, but gave a tiny nod of assent.

“I didn’t want to tell you or Morgana until I was absolutely sure,” Arthur continued after a long pause. “Last time Morgause surfaced she was making it her business to kill you and get my sister onto the throne.”

“She wanted to kill you too,” Merlin piped up. Damn that involuntary reaction thing again.

Arthur shrugged. “She wasn’t the first, and she won’t be the last, Merlin. No, don’t pull that face. Christ, relax, and just accept the fact that it’s a possible side effect of the job. I’m not going to try and  _deliberately_ get killed, Merlin.”

Merlin’s face darkened anyway.

“Anyway,” Arthur continued, “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to protect you. For once, just once, I wanted to keep  _you_  out of harm’s way.”

Merlin knew he couldn’t actually argue with that. Oh, don’t get him wrong, he had a whole list of arguments consisting of how Arthur was supposed to rule and thus his life was important etc, etc, but he knew that the prince wouldn’t stand for any of them.

“Mordred was the one who killed you,” Merlin replied eventually. His voice was remarkably steady given the fact that his insides felt like he was being pulled left and right by unknown forces. “Because I let him live.  _I let him live_. Even when I was told that he was the one who would ruin everything. You died…” He trailed off to catch Arthur’s eyes in a steady gaze. “You died because I didn’t stop him. I won’t let that happen again.”

Arthur’s breath hitched, his expression a tangle of distress, horror and understanding. “Merlin-“ he pressed his fingers against his lips and stared back.

Merlin closed his eyes. “I have to stop him, Arthur. I have to.”

Quick footfalls alerted Merlin that the prince was moving towards him, but it still came as a shock when Arthur wrenched Merlin’s fingers from the table, squeezing so tightly it was painful. Merlin’s eyes flew open in surprise to find Arthur’s face only inches away as he crouched by the chair.

“No,” Arthur snapped, control fraying at the edges as he tightened his already harsh grip. “I’m not letting you lose yourself to some fucked up visions of the past, Merlin. You’re the one who said we aren’t these  _people_!”

“You didn’t see what he did,” Merlin whispered, shaking his head frantically. “You didn’t see, Arthur. You didn’t see. He told me he was the one who killed you.”

“ _It doesn’t matter_ ,” Arthur replied fiercely, ducking his head to ensure Merlin was looking at him.  “Morgana,  _the other Morgana_ , used magic on you to try and kill me, Merlin, you know that’s true. It’s the same with Mordred, Merlin, you have to believe me.”

“But he-“

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur’s tone was so desperate that Merlin reared back slightly. “How could Mordred possibly kill me? He’s a  _PA,_  Merlin, that’s it. And a bloody good one, by the sounds of it.”

“He has magic.”

Merlin’s words might as well have been a physical slap considering the way Arthur leaned back, wobbling precariously on his heels for a moment. “What?”

“Mordred has magic,” Merlin replied. “He’s always had magic.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and he stood before pushing his hands through his hair. “Fuck. How did we not know this?” He paused and looked at Merlin again. “Did you know already?”

Merlin balked. “No!”

Arthur held his hands up. “Fuck, sorry. I’m sorry. Speaking without thinking again.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Merlin, has Mordred done anything that has suggested he wants to kill me?”

Merlin sighed and shook his head.

“Fuck,” Arthur repeated. “Am I like a magnet for magical beings or something?”

“I thought that was fairly obvious at this stage,” Merlin replied without thinking.

Arthur laughed despite himself before sobering. “Merlin, I can’t let you-“

Arthur was cut off by a knock on the door, followed a second later by Mordred – a terrified looking Mordred – shuffling into the room.

Merlin was out of his seat in a flash, the chair scraping back noisily.

“Merlin!” Arthur barked immediately.

Merlin clamped his mouth shut, but his fists were balled at his sides as his chest heaved. His power felt wrong under his skin again and he shivered with the deep-seated knowledge that  _something_  wasn’t letting him touch Mordred with magic.

“Mordred,” Arthur folded his arms as he looked at the newest arrival, “I believe you gave Merlin some news that almost resulted in your premature death.”

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur’s pointed look had him remaining silent. What the bloody hell was Arthur doing? Why was he being  _conversational_?

Mordred gulped. “Your Royal Highness.” He ducked his head. “I didn’t feel I could keep my true nature from Merlin any longer.”

“How long have you been a sorcerer?” Arthur asked calmly.

“Since birth, Sir,” Mordred replied, his eyes still fixed on the linoleum. “But I didn’t know anything of my earlier… _involvement_  until quite recently.”

“And why did you choose to work for Clarence House when you are obviously aware of His Majesty’s policies on magic users?”

Merlin actually wanted to punch Arthur for being so diplomatic.

“Because,” Mordred finally looked up, “I knew it was my destiny. I’d been told since birth that I was destined to help the greatest king the world has ever known.”

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face again. “Okay, that’s suitably dramatic for my life at the moment. And how did you discover your past  _indiscretion?”_

“Indiscretion?” Merlin practically shrieked as he strode toward Mordred. “He fucking  _killed_  you Arthur.”

Mordred stepped back even as Arthur clamped an arm around Merlin to hold him back.

“I’m the one who stopped Morgause,” Mordred said, his face creasing into desperation as he held up his hands. “I swear I have never used my magic against you, Your Royal Highness. Nor against your family. I don’t want to be the man I saw, please believe me, Sir.” At that Mordred dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

Merlin stopped struggling and Arthur gave him a pointed look.

“Please,” Mordred whispered.

Arthur pursed his lips as he let go of Merlin.

“Why did you do it?” Merlin hissed at the kneeling man.

“ _He_ ,” Mordred corrected vehemently, although his eyes remained lowered. “ _He_ did it because he felt betrayed by the man he had sworn his allegiance and trust to. Betrayed by his king and his saviour. Betrayed by the sorcerer who had once saved his life.”

 Arthur turned to Merlin and held him with a steady gaze. “Well, Merlin, what am I supposed to do now?”


	29. Chapter 29

Arthur was trying very hard to remember a time when his life had been anything other than supremely complicated. He supposed it was probably back when he was very little and didn’t really understand who he was, or what he would have to do in the future; back when he could be an astronaut, or a fireman, or a pirate, or something equally amazing to a three year old. When he’d begun to realise his role in life the complexities had started to creep in; first there was the way he didn’t go to school like the little boys he saw on TV; then when he’d been told the mile-long list of things he wasn’t allowed to be seen doing in public (i.e. talking to girls, being rude, acting in any way less than proper and perfect); then finally, off to Albion where he was followed around by guards and students alike from dawn to dusk. Then he’d met Merlin and all of that other stuff paled in comparison to just how complex everything had been from that moment.

So the uncomplicated days of his childhood seemed  _very_  far away when Arthur found himself in the back of yet another black car, zipping towards Kensington Palace with Merlin beside him. Merlin who looked ready to bolt if the car so much as stopped at traffic lights for too long. Merlin, whose twitchiness clearly stated that he was very, very aware of the fact that Mordred was in the car behind, alongside Morgana.

“Do you really think he’s not just sitting here waiting for the right moment?” Merlin asked, his voice little more than a whisper. “That this isn’t just some twisted long game?”

Arthur sighed as he looked at Merlin; his head was bowed, and the circles under his eyes seemed like a permanent feature these days. He didn’t know when Merlin had last slept through the night without  _something_ encroaching in on his dreams, or even on his life.

Arthur reached out and pulled Merlin close to him, tightening his grip when he felt the other tense underneath his hold. Arthur pressed his lips to the crown of Merlin’s head and blew out a breath of frustration.

“I think we have to trust him,” Arthur said quietly. “And I think I need to trust you.”

Merlin’s shoulders went rigid. “You didn’t trust me?”

“Not as much as I should have,” Arthur replied. He allowed Merlin to struggle away from him and seconds later found himself pinned by an accusing stare. That hurt more than he’d been expecting.

“So all this time….what?” Merlin shrugged, and he looked almost too tired to care.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Arthur replied. “I thought I was keeping you safe. You  _and_  Morgana. But I realise now that all I was doing was putting you in more danger. You’re far more capable than I often give you credit for; and I’m sorry for that.”

Merlin’s expression barely changed, but the light in his eyes dimmed even further. Since he’d told Arthur that he should let Mordred explain himself  away form the kitchen, rather than deciding what to do with him there and then he’d looked wrecked.

“Merlin, please,” Arthur made a grab for Merlin’s hand, “this is just something else for us to get through. You know I’m an idiot when it comes to you, and you being safe; that will probably never change.”

“You trust Mordred’s telling the truth?” Merlin asked.

Arthur frowned. Merlin was being odder than usual, he was sure of it. “Yes. I think we  _both_ need to trust him.”

Merlin pulled his hand back. “Arthur, I need to leave.”

“What?” Arthur asked, his stomach bottoming out. The car drifted slightly and the prince looked up to see Leon shooting him a look of pure surprise in the rearview mirror.

Merlin closed his eyes. “Leon, could you drop me back at Cambridge Place?”

“Um.” Leon looked horrified to be addressed at all in this conversation.

“If not, I can walk from Kensington,” Merlin added.

Arthur’s mind was flailing for words, but in the end there was only one his mind could produce; and it was nothing more than an echo of Merlin. “Leave?”

Merlin turned his head towards the window, only opening his eyes when he was facing away from Arthur. “Morgause came after that book for a reason. We know what her eventual aim is; to get Morgana on the throne. That means she needs to get rid of you.”

Arthur could only blink silently in reply.

“There’s something out there.” Merlin paused. “Another  _dragon_.”

Arthur sucked in a breath. “Another dragon?”

“I need to find her,” Merlin replied. “If Morgause knows I’m going after the dragon then I think she’ll follow me away from here.” He turned back to Arthur. “Away from  _you_.”

“No.” Arthur shook his head stubbornly. “Not a chance. You’re not running off on your own.”

Merlin snorted slightly. “I don’t think it’s your decision.”

“It bloody well  _is_  my decision!” Arthur bellowed. He was breathing hard as he stared at a very surprised Merlin. “At least a bit!”

“I’m pulling over.” Leon said quietly as he turned the car right.

“Good.” Merlin said. “I’ll get out here.”

“No!” Arthur said again as the car slowed. “Seriously, Merlin, I swear to God I will tackle you if I have to. You are  _not_  just leaving.”

Leon escaped, and Arthur couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Arthur, look at us,” Merlin held up his hands, gesturing between them. “It’s up and down, and up and bloody back down,  _constantly._ It’s never going to work if we spend our lives hoping Morgause won’t catch up with us; she’s the key to this, Arthur - her and the dragon. If we’re ever going to work out what’s going on, if we’re ever going to be left in  _peace_ then I need to find the dragon.”

Arthur shook his head again. “I’m not letting you do this on your own.”

“I can make my own decisions, Arthur.”

Arthur scrubbed his hands through his hair and growled in frustration. “No, Merlin. You see it doesn’t actually work like that.” He held up a finger when Merlin opened his mouth to reply. “No, listen. We already nearly ruined everything permanently when were in Albion, and I’m not going to let that happen again. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t letting you go again, Merlin. Christ, I’d still give up the crown in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you by my side forever.”

Merlin looked like Arthur felt; like there wasn’t quite enough air in the car and was two, maybe three, seconds away from bawling like a child on the edge of a tantrum.

“By the sounds of things,” Arthur swallowed heavily, “we fucked up majorly the first time around. You, me, Morgana, Mordred,  _everybody_. You said Mordred killed me because you weren’t there; where the hell were you then, Merlin?”

Merlin looked like Arthur had punched him, and the prince regretted the question even though he needed to ask it in order to make his point.

“You don’t know,” Arthur shook his head. “And nobody else does at the moment, well except for probably Morgause, but I bet you were off trying to fix mistakes; mistakes we’d both made.

Merlin was wearing down that two to three second boundary and Arthur hadn’t seem him look so distraught in a long time.

“You and I together is a formidable thing, Merlin,” Arthur continued. “God, they wrote legends about us! You and I apart? It doesn’t work. I  _don’t work_ without you. If you go, temporary or not, I will spend every second of every day worrying about you, and I can’t do that, Merlin.” Arthur blinked slowly, trying to calm his heart. “I just can’t.”

Merlin took in a shaky breath, clenching his jaw in a way that suggested he was trying to say something but couldn’t get his emotions under control.

“We’ve got to stop running away from each other,” Arthur’s voice had lost any strength it had to begin with. “Merlin, I will do everything to help you find that dragon, to help you  _end_  this. But I can’t just watch you do it alone and destroy yourself along the way.”

Merlin sniffed. He pulled his cuffs down over the back of his hands and used the material to scrub at his eyes. “Fuck.”

Arthur reached out again and gently pulled Merlin’s hands into his lap. “Please don’t do this.”

Merlin was silent for a long moment, and his eyes remained firmly fixed on where his fingers were tangled with Arthur’s.

“Merlin?” Arthur whispered.

“Arthur, I can’t promise I won’t do something stupid if she threatens you,” Merlin replied quietly. “I will do  _anything_  to keep you safe.”

“I know,” Arthur replied. “But you need to accept that I’ll do the same for you.” He frowned. “I think our relationship is starting to border on dangerously co-dependent.”

Merlin managed a weak smile at that. “You’re just getting that now?”

Arthur kissed him then, trying to pour every ounce of fear and love and trust he felt into it.

When Merlin finally pulled away Arthur felt as though the vice around his heart that had clamped shut when he couldn’t reach Merlin finally began to loosen. The prince raised his hand, shaking his head as his fingers carded through Merlin’s hair.

“Come back to the palace with me?” Arthur asked. “Speak to Mordred. If you want him to leave, I’ll make him leave. It’s your call.”

Merlin nodded slowly. “Do you think we should tell Leon we’re ready to leave?”

Arthur glanced out of the window to where Leon was standing awkwardly on the pavement, speaking into his phone. He banged his fist on the window and watched as Leon jumped in surprise.

“ _Arthur_.” Merlin sighed judgementally, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

Arthur adopted a suitably guilty expression and just for a second everything seemed normal. Well, as normal as it had ever been.

But then Leon got into the car, shoulders tense and a visible reminder of what had just passed between Merlin and Arthur.

“Where to?” Leon asked carefully avoiding all eyes.

Arthur looked at Merlin expectantly, willing him not to change his mind.

“Kensington,” Merlin replied firmly, squeezing Arthur’s hand as he did so. “And I really need a cup of tea.”


	30. Chapter 30

Merlin was sitting in Arthur’s study, tapping a pen against the navy leather inlay on the desk. The prince had disappeared to a far-flung corner of the palace with Leon, Galahad, and various other security agents almost an hour earlier; Merlin knew they were going to speak to Mordred – something he was trying not to dwell on.

“Are you alright over there, Merlin?”

Merlin looked up, jumping slightly at the sound of Percy’s voice.

“Sorry,” Merlin replied as he ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m somewhere else.”

Percy pointed to the mug on the desk from where he was standing stiff-backed by the door. “You haven’t touched your tea.”

Merlin automatically reached out to wrap a hand around the mug, wrinkling his nose when he found it was stone cold. “Eurgh.”

“Want another one?” Percy asked.

Merlin shook his head. “No thanks, Percy.” He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept properly. He’d been right all those years ago when he’d declared the Pendragons had an adverse affect on his slumber.

Percy’s phone beeped and Merlin looked over at the noise instinctively. Percy’s face crumpled into a frown, then blossomed into something that looked like relief.

“What?” Merlin was on his feet immediately.

“It’s an update on Owain,” Percy replied as he pocketed his phone.

“Is he alright?” Merlin asked. “I haven’t dared ask Arthur about it, just incase someone overheard.”

Percy smiled slightly. “Doctor Ashburn reckons he’ll be back on duty in a couple of weeks.”

Merlin gulped, managing a weak smile. Deep down he knew that it wasn’t really his fault that Owain had ended up so badly injured, but he still felt guilty every time he thought of the man who’d become a good friend over the past few years.

“Not your fault, Merlin.” Percy shook his head as he accurately read Merlin’s expression. “Nobody blames you for it, especially not Owain. It looked far worse than it actually was.”

 Merlin nodded silently.

“He’d appreciate the visit, you know, now that he’s going home.” Percy shrugged. “I think he feels as guilty as you do.”

“I should have gone to see him before now.” Merlin shook his head, angry at himself for letting too many other things get in the way. “Arthur too.”

“Hey,” Percy punched Merlin lightly on the shoulder, “you’ve both been busy, and you were right when you said someone could have overheard.” He nodded, a look of consideration on his face. “It shows how much loyalty all the men here have to Arthur that the King hasn’t heard a peep about what happened.”

“He deserves their loyalty,” Merlin replied.

“That he does,” Percy nodded again. “And the same loyalty is extended to you, and to the Princess.”

Merlin ducked his head, embarrassed at the plain truth in that statement. How had this happened? He’d spent most of his life as the gangly bloke in his little village, and here he was commanding the loyalty of the future king’s most trusted men.

The door to the study opened and Arthur appeared, Leon close behind.

“What happened?” Merlin asked, just about resisting the urge to reach out and grab Arthur’s arm. The prince was fine – that much was obvious – but Merlin still didn’t like the fact that Arthur had been in Mordred’s presence without any magic to protect him if necessary.

Arthur tilted his chin up slightly, as if preparing for battle. “Mordred is no threat to me, or to the people of this country. He is under my protection from the Advisory Council, the King, and any other entity who would wish to do him harm.”

Merlin sagged slightly, no strength left for the fight a little voice in his head was cheering him on to have. Trust was going to have to go both ways here. “Okay.”

Arthur twitched slightly in surprise. “Okay?”

Merlin frowned. “Yeah…”

“You’re not going to argue with me?” Arthur asked carefully. “Or think he’s using some kind of voodoo mind-control or something?"

Merlin’s eyes bugged.

Arthur held up his hands to salvage the rapidly deteriorating situation. “Forget I said that. Look, I just…” He trailed off and turned his head to glance first at Percy, then Leon. “Could you just leave us alone for a minute?”

Leon and Percy nodded immediately and left the room without another word. 

“Come here.” Arthur reached out to take Merlin’s hand in his own and tugged him gently towards the two armchairs by the fire. He didn’t let go as they sat across from each other, choosing instead to rest their joined hands on the coffee table as he leant towards Merlin.

“Morgana believes him.” Arthur said simply after a long moment of quiet, filled only with the annoyingly loud tick of the grandfather clock in the corner.

“But-“

Arthur shook his head. “You saw how keen she was to be in the car with him when we left Gwen and Lance’s, didn’t you?”

Yes, Merlin had seen. He’d also seen Arthur getting very antsy about it until Morgana had whispered something very quietly to him; the prince had tensed up immediately, but nodded his almost immediate agreement. Merlin had no idea what Morgana had said, and Arthur hadn’t mentioned anything in the car.

“Morgana…” Arthur trailed off again and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Morgana thinks that the, er, original Mordred’s actions were as much her fault as anyone else’s.”

Merlin remained silent.

“She wants to help him,” Arthur replied. “She’s sure he’s not dangerous. Her magic-“ he cut himself off with a dissatisfied huff. “I’m not explaining this very well.”

Quiet blanketed them both again as the seconds passed.

“I can’t refuse him another chance,” Arthur all but whispered eventually. “I can’t be a hypocrite.” 

Merlin closed his eyes. Arthur was right, wasn’t he? But Merlin had seen how Arthur had been slumped, eyes closed as his body began to succumb to the wound Mordred had inflicted on him. He’d felt every rational thought he’d ever had melt away as his mind focused solely on the wounded king he’d promised to protect. How was he supposed to forget that? How?

Merlin barely recognised the broken voice as his own. “I can’t lose you again, Arthur.”

Arthur gently ran his thumb over Merlin’s knuckles. “You won’t. I promise. Merlin, I promise.”

Merlin said nothing in response, but he gripped the prince’s hand harder with his own.

“Tell me what you remember,” Arthur suggested gently.

Merlin shook his head.

“Merlin, please.”

Merlin looked up, catching Arthur’s eyes as he did so. The prince held his gaze and as Merlin’s defences crumbled around him once more, he began to speak.

 

 

 

**ooOOoo**

 

 

“I’m so sorry.”

Arthur wasn’t actually sure who’d said it first. Merlin and Owain had identical expressions of horror on their faces after speaking. 

Owain was sitting on the sofa of his flat in Pimlico, his face still displaying the story of what had happened in the study at Cambridge Place. From where he was siting on the other side of the room Arthur could see the white square bandage that covered the back of Owain’s neck; Doctor Ashburn had checked for the reappearance of the Fomorrah every day, just in case, but they were all fairly certain that the creature was gone for good now.

“Merlin, it wasn’t your fault.” Owain said quietly. “You had to protect yourself.”

“But I could have killed you,” Merlin replied. 

“As I could have killed you.” Owain raised his eyebrows slightly, wincing a little as he did so.

Arthur wasn’t sure he could cope with an evening of guilt and introspection considering the morning they’d had; Merlin’s account of King Arthur’s death had chilled  _Prince_ Arthur to the bone, but he’d kept as stoic a face on as possible so that the look of crushing guilt on Merlin’s face had eased in tiny, incremental measures. 

Merlin and Owain had now reached an awkwardly silent impasse by the looks of things, and Arthur couldn’t sit still any longer. No, it was time he took on a princely duty and sorted this mess out in true British fashion!

“Tea anyone?” he asked, pushing himself out of the armchair.

“Of course,” Owain said, making to stand up. “Sorry. Terrible host.”

“No.” Arthur shook his head vehemently. “Stay where you are, Owain. I know how to make tea.” He looked over to where Merlin was still hovering sheepishly by the door. “Merlin, sit down for God’s sake. You’re making me nervous.”

Merlin gave Arthur a dark look, and it was testament to the state of affairs that Arthur actually counted that reaction as a victory. Even more so when Merlin slowly moved towards the sofa and took a seat next to Owain.

Arthur took the opportunity to duck into the kitchen, pulling the door shut behind him. He took his phone out of his pocket and checked the message he’d received a few seconds earlier. It was Leon.

 

**From: Leon  
15th January 2013 17:54**

_Everything alright?_

Arthur sent a quick text back. Leon had opted to stay in the car when they’d arrived. He’d said it was because he wanted to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, but Arthur knew it was more likely because Leon was aware Merlin wouldn’t want an audience for this meeting; not when he still felt so guilty over what he’d been forced to do to Owain.

He opened various cupboard doors looking for mugs and teabags, eventually succeeding in locating everything he needed. Arthur had never been to Owain’s home before, and even though he was standing in the kitchen with undeniable proof that the other man lived here, Arthur still found it hard to imagine Owain, or any of the security team for that matter, pottering around a flat like this on a rare full day off.

For a few minutes Arthur pretended to make tea - clanking cups occasionally and flicking the kettle on and off noisily - and listened to the quiet conversation taking place next door. He needed Merlin and Owain to make amends quickly; Owain was one of the only people Arthur truly,  _truly_  trusted to take care of Merlin, and he wanted him back onside as soon as possible.

Eventually, Arthur set about  _actually_ making the tea. He hadn’t managed to locate a teapot, so instead poured the water into three mugs instead. He stabbed at the teabags slightly with a spoon, straining his ears for any sound of continued discussion next door.

“Arthur you can stop pretending you’re not listening! We want our tea!”

Arthur, to his shame, dropped the teaspoon in surprise at Merlin’s shout, and it clattered to the floor, leaving spots of tea down the fridge door and across the linoleum tiles.

He grinned slightly even as he cleaned up the mess he’d made. “Alright, alright,” he called back, a sense of relief settling in his bones, “hold your horses. You can’t rush good tea!”

 

 

**ooOOoo**

 

“Well, I don’t think that’s really relevant.” Merlin held the phone closer to his ear, for fear that if he loosened his grip he’d hurl it across the room on principle.

“It’s just padding, Mr Emrys,” the silky voice replied. “Just a little hook to ensnare potential readers.”

Merlin looked out of the window and took a calming breath as he focused on the snowflakes tumbling gracefully down the enormous pane of glass.  _They just want your thoughts on the charity_ , Annis had said.  _No personal questions._

 _“_ Mr Emrys?”

“Sorry,” Merlin replied, not that he was even remotely apologetic. “It’s a very busy day for us here.”

“Of course,” the voice cooed. “Which is why I just want to wrap up with this final question; how have you been supporting the Royal family through this difficult time? Particularly Princess Morgana.”

Merlin tugged at his collar, mentally composing the list of people who would kill him if he gave the incorrect answer here.

 

1\.     _Annis_  - she’d have Merlin frogmarched to her office for his stupidity, and then he’d be forced to explain why exactly he wasn’t asking Mordred for help with difficult journalists.

 

2\.    _Morgana_  - He adored Morgana, and was fairly convinced the levels of adoration were mutual. But if he said anything that made the Princess look bad in the tabloids Merlin was sure no amount of pseudo-sibling-love would save him.

 

3\.    _Arthur_  - Oh Christ, he really didn’t want to go there…

 

4\.    _Uther_  - Merlin would rather not dwell on that either. Basically it would result in Merlin’s death; A horribly painful and prolonged one that Uther had probably started plotting when Arthur had first taken Merlin’s hand in his presence.

 

“Mr Emrys?” The voice prompted (Merlin really should have listened to the journalist when she’d introduced herself).

Merlin was horribly reminded of his experience with Morgause. He scrubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath, hoping the right words would come. “I’m just here if my friends need me.”

The other end of the phone remained silent.

Merlin heard Annis’ words in his head.  _The best weapon the press has is silence. When they give you silence, they give you an opportunity to make a fool of yourself. Bite your tongue, and hold your ground, Merlin._

Arthur hadn’t been quite so eloquent.  _Just keep your bloody mouth shut_ , is all the Prince had offered.

Just as Merlin was about to give into the tension and spout anything just to make the uncomfortable silence go away, he was saved.

“Well,” the journalist sighed, “thank you for your time, Mr Emrys.”

“No, thank you,” Merlin replied hurriedly, before slamming the receiver back down on his desk and bolting from the room.

“Are you alright there, Merlin?” Morgana asked in concern from where she stood in her office doorway.

“Yep!” Merlin replied slightly hysterically, stuffing his hand into his pocket to retrieve some change. “Just going to the vending machine. Do you want anything? A bag of crisps? Skittles? Do we have vodka?”

“Christ.” Morgana strode forward and gripped his arms. “I thought you were just having a quick chat with a journalist about the charity?” She paled. “Oh God, Merlin, did they find out about Arthur?”

Merlin shook his head. “No! God, no. Sorry, just panicking.”

“Hmm,” Morgana replied. “Well, you have nothing to worry about then. "

“Exactly,” Merlin replied, taking a deep breath. “Exactly.”

“Although,” Morgana replied, “I should probably warn you that Uther wants to see you in a few days’ time.”

The air whooshed out of Merlin’s lungs and he had to stop himself from sinking to the floor with a wail. Overdramatic? Yes. Necessary? God, yes.

“It’s fine,” Morgana replied hurriedly, though she didn’t look convinced. “It’s just because he wants to discuss some matters of protocol regarding the dinner next month.”

“Protocol?” Merlin gulped slightly. “More protocol?”

Morgana tried to smile. “You’ll be fine! Arthur will be with you.”

“Oh great,” Merlin sighed. “That makes me feel  _so_  much better.”

Morgana’s face crumpled into an expression of sympathy. “Come on,” she said as she patted his arm. “I’ll buy you some Maltesers.”


	31. More note than chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Happy Easter to everyone celebrating. Just to let you know that after a very long break C&C will be updated in the next 2-3 weeks. Fingers crossed there are still some people out there reading who care. I've enjoyed seeing your lovely comments having logged back in and will get back to you all as soon as I can. Life's been busy...
> 
> Bo x

This "chapter" will be replaced with an actual chapter ASAP


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're back...

**ooOOoo**

 The knock on his office door startled Merlin so much that his hand lost its grip on the container of drawing pins he’d been holding. He scrabbled wildly trying to catch the box, but the thin plastic contorted unhelpfully as his fingers made contact, sending the colourfully tipped pins tumbling across his desk, and rolling onto the floor in a tinkling wave.

“Merlin?”

Merlin looked up from the pins on the carpet as Percy poked his head around the now open door. 

“Sorry,” Merlin sighed at Percy’s slightly frown. “I’m a bit…” He shrugged again as he knelt down to start picking up the offending office supplies.

“On edge?” Percy added with a sympathetic nudge as he too crouched to help.

Merlin nodded. It had been a relatively quiet two days at the office, and at home, but this afternoon his diary held the one event he’d been dreading since Sandringham. Officially, said event had been recorded as ‘Meeting with HM King Uther’, but Merlin’s personal desk diary simply had a range of profanities written in writing too small for anyone else to decipher, followed by giant exclamation points in red pen. In a slight fit of pique, caused by Uther’s personal secretary calling him directly that morning to confirm the appointment, he'd then gone on to underline his overuse of punctuation thirteen times. He’d also (possibly) drawn a small, caricature of Uther about to be squashed by a giant crown in the bottom left hand corner of the page, but he’d panicked when he realised that it was probably treasonous and hastily scribbled it out.

Percy gave the open diary a look of concern as he stood up, all visible drawing pins now returned to their container.

Merlin coughed and closed the diary quickly. “It’s not time to leave yet, is it?”

“No,” Percy said, checking his watch even though Merlin was certain that his personal bodyguard, and the rest of Arthur’s team for that matter, were highly-trained enough to know exactly what time it was - possibly to the second - at all times, regardless of access to timekeeping equipment. In the years of knowing the Pendragons, Merlin had never seen a member of the security detail late for anything. “But Annis is almost here and wants a word.”

“Okay,” Merlin replied slowly, tilting his head in unspoken question. Annis normally barged into his office without warning. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; Mordred had been pretty diligent about giving Merlin a heads up if the Press Secretary was on her way, but Merlin was avoiding thinking about his own (former?) PA as much as possible after the events in Gwen’s kitchen. But regardless of that fact, Annis didn’t normally send Percy as a herald.

“Mordred’s with her,” Percy confirmed, wincing slightly as he waiting for Merlin’s response. Percy was less concerned with hiding his feelings than the usually straight-faced Leon. “I thought you’d want to know before they got here.”

“Any chance of escape?” Merlin asked, longingly looking out of the window to the busy street below.

“Sorry,” Percy replied. “They’re already in the lift.” Percy glanced over his shoulder, before closing the office door. “Look, Merlin,” he said, “I know the official line is that there’s no problem between you and Mordred and you’re happy to work with him, but I saw that kitchen, and I saw you. If you want me to keep him out, you just tell me, alright?”

Merlin gave Percy the best smile he could manage in that moment. “And risk Arthur’s wrath?”

“ _You_ are my charge at the minute, Merlin. You’re under my protection.” Percy replied steadily. “If you think there’s even a whiff of a problem I’m here to diffuse that situation immediately…no matter the official line. I’m not going to pretend that I know what this _issue_ is all about - it’s not my business - but I’m here not just because of my job. I’m here as a friend.”

Percy was a good man, Merlin already knew that, but this right here was just further testament to how lucky he was to be surrounded by the best. Arthur too.

Merlin shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ve got to try and trust him. Otherwise I’m a hypocrite, and we’ve had way too much of that already. Thank you, though. For everything. 

Percy nodded his assent. 

On cue, Annis knocked once on the door before striding in, a folder peeking out of the top of her handbag. Merlin could guess what it contained; it would be today’s roundup of Merlin/Morgana news from the international media. It transpired that there were plenty of people who thought Morgana and Merlin made a wonderful couple; this was all much to Arthur’s chagrin, of course.

“Merlin. Percival.” Annis nodded in greeting as she pulled out a seat in front of Merlin’s desk. Frowning, she picked a drawing pin off the seat cushion and placed it on Merlin’s desk with a slight purse of her lips. She turned back towards the door where her subordinate was awkwardly shuffling his feet. “Mordred, stop hovering.”

Mordred glanced quickly at Merlin, who, after taking a very deep breath then gave a slight incline of his head. As Mordred walked towards the desk looking more than a little contrite, Percy pulled the other guest chair out for him - this move was both polite, and, in Merlin’s mind, just a tiny bit passive-aggressive.

Modred swallowed heavily as he sat down. “Thank you.” It was clear he understood the message - you can come in, but one wrong move and, well…Percy.

“Merlin, please sit down,” Annis instructed without looking up from the folder she had just opened in front of her. “You’re making me nervous.”

Merlin sank into his chair and tried to avoid looking anywhere near where Mordred was perched. He could feel his magic prodding at him in a slightly annoyed manner. He tried to bat it away, but it persisted - it clearly wasn’t happy with his negative feelings towards Mordred. Which, if you asked Merlin, made no reasonable sense.

“There isn’t really anything that requires a response today, Merlin.” Annie finally looked up. “Certain tabloids are just rehashing the same photographs, and the interest in the mainstream media has mostly waned. The gossip websites, of course, are continuing to dig, but so far they haven’t found anything noteworthy. Not that I would expect them to.”

There was a hard edge to Annis’ voice now. Over the past couple of days Merlin had really begun to see how hard Annis worked to protect the Pendragon family - not just in terms of brand management, although she was incredible in that respect, but the way that she clearly wanted to protect Arthur and Morgana from any unnecessary anguish. By default, and contractual obligation, Merlin was now part of that select little group under Annis’ wing again and he felt all the better for it. If Merlin had to deal with the press vultures himself he certainly would have given the game away by now.

“Thank you,” Merlin replied. He braced himself for whatever was coming next. Annis wouldn’t have made her way to the BrighterNow offices unless she had something noteworthy to speak of. The fact that Morgana wasn’t part of this meeting let Merlin know very clearly that whatever Annis was here to discuss it was related to Merlin alone.

“Your meeting with the King this afternoon is incredibly important, Merlin,” Annis explained, again, just in case Merlin had forgotten. “He will formally extend an invitation to you for what is, for all intents and purposes, considered a state dinner. The guest list will be circulated to the press by the end of the week. Due to the _unusual_ inclusion of a commoner and non-political entity on that guest list I cannot stress how careful you need to be in your interaction with the press in the coming weeks. The coronation anniversary usually passes without much media interest, however, once word gets out that you will be attending, added to the rumours regarding your relationship with Princess Morgana I am certain that the world media will be on our doorstep once more.”

Merlin scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I know. Morgana’s trying to keep press to a minimum until the end of February so that we can avoid any difficult questions.”

“Which is a very sensible approach to the situation,” Annis replied. She clasped her hands together and leaned towards Merlin with an even more serious expression than usual, “Merlin, it is imperative that you understand and appreciate how much intrusion some of your friends and family are going to face, not just this month, but in the summer.”

Merlin thought of his mum and his stomach turned over. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about how all of this was going to impact on his mother, on Will, on Gwen and Lance, but he knew after the phone call with his mum earlier in the week that a storm was coming and he hoped they were all strong enough to brace it. Not for the first time, for just a split second Merlin wondered what it would have been like to live out his twenties as he’d imagined instead of in the media circus he’d found himself in. But just like every other time that thought had wheedled into his mind, he cast it out again wth vehemence.

“I need you and Mordred to work closely together,” Annis continued. At her words the two men in question snapped their heads towards the other. “I’m not going to get involved in whatever is causing tension between the two of you, but I will not allow a personal matter to jeopardise the reputation and safety of the Royal family.”

“How did…?” Merlin trailed off.

“Merlin, I’ve been in press relations for over thirty years,” Annis replied. “It is very obvious to me when two people are not getting on as they should, and if it’s obvious to me, it’s going to be obvious to other people. I would rather that this was not the case. Mordred is the best man for the job and you’ve worked well together until this point. Morgana is my primary focus and I need to know that someone I trust is working with you.”

Merlin chanced another look at Mordred. The younger man had spots of colour high on his cheeks and was staring at the floor again. He was quite clearly embarrassed that Annis was aware that there was a problem.

 _Stop being a tit, Merlin_.  The voice in his head sounded so much like Arthur that Merlin actually looked behind him quickly, just in case Arthur had discovered ninja-level skills of stealth. But no, nobody there, just Merlin’s conscience reminding him that he wasn’t the centre of the universe. _He’s not the same as before. Just like you, like Arthur, like Morgana (or have you forgotten that the other Morgana tried to actually kill you at least once?)_

“Okay,” Merlin replied eventually. “If Mordred’s the man for the job, then who am I to argue with that.”

Mordred looked like Merlin had just sprouted an extra head. “You’re sure?”

The smile Merlin replied with was strained to say the least, but he managed the quirk of his lips without too much pain to his pride.

“Good.” Annis nodded. “Now, I want you to think very carefully about anything, anything at all, that could be unearthed about you, your life in Ealdor, your childhood, or anything we should know about your family or friends. If there’s anything at all you think the press will dig up when they’re feeling particularly vindictive then you need to let me know.”

Merlin thought back to the last time this had happened; back to when the photos from his nativity play had made it into _Vanity Fair,_ when Will had been accosted in Sainsbury’s, when his mother had been practically on first name terms with the royal correspondents of most major newspapers they had called her so often. This time it was going to be worse, because this time Merlin was the rumoured paramour of an heir to the British throne, even if everyone had their money on the wrong Pendragon sibling. A rumour that was no doubt going to be fuelled by Merlin’s appearance at the anniversary dinner. _Christ,_ Uther was definitely going to have him murdered, wasn’t he?

“Are you alright, Merlin?” It was Percy looking at Merlin in concern now. “You’ve gone a bit pale.”

“Fine, thanks,” Merlin replied in a slightly strangled voice, reaching for a glass of water.

“Is there anything you can think of now, Merlin?” Annis asked.

 _I’m a wizard_ hovered ridiculously on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed the words immediately. “I don’t think so.”

“What about your family? Friends?” Annis had a pen poised above a notebook Merlin hadn’t even seen her extract from her cavernous bag. “Previous relationships?”

“Previous relationships.” Merlin blinked stupidly. It was ridiculous how he found it hard to see past Arthur. “Er, no, none of those. Just, er, Ar-, er, y _ou know who_.”

Merlin would have sworn that he saw Annis roll her eyes in that moment, but it was so quick he must have imagined it. Annis was far too professional for eye-rolling. “Nobody else?”

Merlin shook his head. “No.”

“Right. Do you have your father’s new address to hand?”

At that question Merlin’s stomach flipped once more before knotting itself into something awful and tangled, something that hurt when he thought about it. “Um…no.”

“That’s okay,” Annis replied. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get hold of it quite quickly. He d-“

“Wait.” Merlin’s voice came out as a hiss as he held up a hand. “ What do you mean my father’s _new_ address?”

Annis frowned, looking quickly to Mordred as if to check she really hand’t asked a stupid question. “He didn’t pass on his forwarding address as we asked when he moved to London in January.”

“He’s in London?” The question burst from his lips, each syllable leaving a foul taste in his mouth. “ He’s in _London_?”

“Yes,” Annis replied, looking slightly baffled. “He didn’t tell you?”

Merlin laughed, not caring how hysterical he sounded. “My father hasn’t told me anything since I was three. He left. He left us and never came back.”

Horror and surprise flitted across Annis’ face before settling into an expression that clearly indicated that they were reaching DEFCON One levels of panic. This did _not_ make Merlin feel any better. “But, last time we spoke to him, he said that you two had begun to reconcile last year.” Annis began manically flipping through a leather bound notebook that clearly held the secrets to the kingdom and everything in between. “I’m sure I have that in here.”

“Just…one sec.” Merlin held up his hand again, pushed his chair back and bolted from the room. He stumbled past Morgana’s PA’s desk and headed for the gents.

Once inside he leaned heavily against the sink and tried to remember how to breathe. His father was in _London_? Merlin had been pretty convinced his father was dead so to find out that he was apparently very much alive, and now somewhere in the same city as him was more than a bit of a shock. Annis had known? Clarence House has _spoken_ to his father? How was this even possible?

Did his mother know? Oh God was he going to have to tell her? What was he supposed to do in this situation? Did Annis have a training manual he could borrow?

The soft knock at the door barely registered with Merlin. “Merlin? "

The voice registered though. It was Mordred.

“Merlin? I know I’m probably the last person you need to speak to right now,but…” Mordred hadn’t tried to open the door and kept his voice quiet. “Look, I know what it’s like to have a crap father…a crap father who left his family in the lurch when he walked out…and if there’s anything I can do now to make this any easier for you, please just let me know. Annis can make him sign a non-disclosure in a heartbeat. She can probably have him exiled if you wanted her to. We’re here to help.” A long pause. “All of us.”

Merlin steeled himself, glancing at his pale face in the mirror above the sink. He’d looked awful at the thought of dealing with _Arthur’s_ father, and now that he had his own to contend with as well he looked positively ghostly. He needed help. There was no way he could face these demons on his own. Not now, not with everything else going on.

He turned away from his own image and opened the door. Mordred had already turned away and was walking back towards the office. Merlin’s magic gave him a nudge, his voice almost finding itself of its own accord. “Mordred, wait.”

Mordred did indeed wait. He turned slowly and Merlin noted just how young he looked. Young and faintly terrified. _You did that_ , Merlin’s conscience/Arthur sneered in his head, _you’ve terrified him_. It clicked in that moment just what a prat Merlin was being. Up to now Mordred had been alone in this. He hadn’t had the close relationship with Arthur and Morgana that Merlin had. He’d had to deal with his magic alone. Christ, Mordred had had to deal with the knowledge of the _past_ on his own. He’d saved Merlin’s sorry arse from Morgause in Kensington, not to mention Arthur, Morgana, and God knows how much of London.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin was only slightly surprised to realise that he meant it. Meant it with a soul-deep certainty that suggested he wasn’t just apologising for trying to club him with a teapot in Gwen’s kitchen. “I’m really sorry.”

Mordred looked poleaxed. He opened his mouth and floundered silently for a few seconds before pressing his lips together and giving Merlin a short nod that spoke volumes about his relief.

Merlin held out his hand. Mordred shook it with only the briefest of hesitations. 

“I need your help,” Merlin admitted. “I really need your help.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while! 
> 
> Saying life has been 'hectic' would be a bit of an understatement, but I apologise for the wait, and thank you for your patience. I've been terrible at replying to comments, but know that each one is truly, gratefully received, and I really can't thank you enough for sticking with me. I can promise, however, that the next chapter will be up soon.
> 
> B
> 
> \--------------------------------------

Arthur blew out the breath he’d been holding as Merlin and Percy appeared at the end of the corridor. “There you are!” 

“Just-” Merlin cut himself off as he held up a hand to stall any further comments from Arthur. “Can you just give me a minute before you yell at me for being a bit late?”

Arthur wanted to point out that Merlin was more than ‘a bit late’, and that the thing they were also more than ‘a bit late’ for was a meeting with Uther of all people. But he held his tongue; it wasn’t like being prompt or not was going to make a blind bit of difference to whatever Uther was going to threaten them with, and Merlin looked like he could use a bit more breathing room before they entered the lion’s den.

“Annis came to see me,” Merlin began to explain once Percy had given him a quick nudge of support before leaving them to it. “She brought Mordred with her; said she’d noticed we weren’t, um, _getting along_. Um…”

“Oh Christ,” Arthur sighed, “what happened?”

“Um,” Merlin repeated as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Nothing. Not really. Um..”

Arthur clasped his hands together briefly, then running them over his face. “Merlin, as much as I’m normally happy to wade through your rambling maelstroms of ineloquence searching for meaning, we _really_ don’t have time right now. So as long as you and Mordred are both alive, unscathed and still employed then I think we’re probably good t-“

“Mordred’s helping me find my father." 

Arthur squinted at Merlin. “Excuse me?”

Merlin didn’t reply verbally; he shuffled his feet slightly and scrunched up his nose in irritation.

“ _Mordred_ ,” Arthur began his question slowly, “is helping _you_ find _your father_?”

Merlin nodded. “Um…yeah.”

Arthur was at a loss of what to say. Merlin had never said anything about his father; nothing more than the bare bones of an explanation that he’d walked out when Merlin was a baby and he hadn’t heard anything at all from him since he was three years old. Arthur didn’t even know the man’s name, and he certainly knew nothing about the circumstances surrounding the abandonment of Hunith and her toddler.

“Apparently Clarence House contacted him last year,” Merlin continued in what Arthur thought was a surprisingly steady tone for the topic. “He told them that we’d started to rebuild our relationship, and that he was moving to London in January.” Merlin looked directly at Arthur then. “He’s here, Arthur. Or, at least he’s _almost_ here and I don’t know what to do.”

Arthur wanted to cover his face and shout into his hands; just to try and release the pressure of the ever-growing frustrations this particular year was throwing at them, but he couldn’t do that here. Not here, and certainly not now. “Merlin-“

“I know,” Merlin agreed with Arthur’s unspoken sentiments. “Now isn’t the time, but I needed to tell you. I’m not keeping things from you anymore.”

Arthur’s lips twitched upwards just a fraction. “Good.”

“I should warn you that I will need to freak out later. Like, seriously, seriously freak out.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Arthur replied. “I’ll ask Percy to remove any breakables from the house.”

The prince looked at the full-height double doors at the opposite end of the gallery and straightened his spine. He reached out a hand, pleased to feel Merlin’s fingers tangle with his own almost immediately. He squeezed tightly before letting go after a few seconds; with Uther’s recent health scare Merlin had been the one to suggest that they perhaps weren’t _quite_ so attached as they had been in his presence recently.

“Right.” Merlin nodded, clearly steeling himself for what was coming

“Right,” Arthur agreed. He raised his chin, aware that Merlin was watching him carefully, before striding towards his father’s private study with a show of far more confidence than he actually felt. Merlin matched him for every step and Arthur felt his resolve being bolstered by his proximity; there was nobody else who’d go through quite all of this rigmarole just for Arthur’s sake, of that the prince was certain, and once more it gave him slight pause to wonder how he had been graced with Merlin even once in a million lifetimes, and what exactly he’d done to deserve him.

George appeared as if by magic, stepping out from behind a suit of armour as the heir to the throne approached. Arthur was startled enough to lose the rhythm of his almost-march for a second, but recovered enough to steady an equally-surprised Merlin with a light touch to the elbow.

“Your Royal Highness.” George’s bow was so low he practically touched the carpet with his face – ever the consummate professional. His eyes, however, roamed Merlin on the way back to standing, and Arthur could see the obsequious little weasel trying to calculate exactly what was going on. 

Arthur cursed himself silently for assuming they’d been alone in the gallery; he’d have to hope that George hadn’t seen the brief hand-clasp. He wasn’t sure what George would _do_ with any kind of blackmail material – he did seem unreasonably loyal to Uther, after all, and therefore probably wouldn’t run straight to the press with it – but Arthur wasn’t too keen to find out.

“Mr Emrys.” George added with an obvious lick of distaste. “So nice to see you again, and so soon.”

Arthur momentarily wondered if Merlin could zap George somewhere else with a wave of his hand. Preferably somewhere remote.

 _With piranhas_.

From the look on Merlin’s face he seemed to be considering a similar fate for the toadying man before them.

“His Majesty is expecting us.” Arthur shifted to Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Wales, at his own statement. There was no place for _just Arthur_ behind these doors; not if he was going to give Merlin the protection he would probably require. “We really mustn’t keep him waiting for the sake of idle conversation.”

George looked like he’d swallowed a lemon whole at Arthur’s mild suggestion that he was the one causing the delay in the King’s schedule. “Of course not, Sir. Please forgive me.”

Arthur didn’t say anything as George pushed open both doors. He gave Merlin a quick glance and discovered that he was staring at his shoes and looking more than a little queasy.

“Your Majesty. His Royal Highness, Prince Arthur, and Mister Merlin Emrys,” George announced – pointlessly in Arthur’s opinion – as the doors opened enough for Uther’s countenance to be visible. The palace physicians were obviously doing their jobs properly, as Uther looked as stern as he ever had.

The King was sitting behind his desk as expected, a stack of paper neatly arranged before him. Arthur didn’t allow himself to be cowed as they approached the desk; his eyes not leaving his father once, not even to check how Merlin was faring.

“Your Majesty.” Arthur bowed his head slightly as George closed the doors behind him, having been dismissed with a wave of Uther’s hand.

The King, however, was looking directly at Merlin, rather than his son. “Mr Emrys, sit down before you _fall_ down.”

Merlin immediately sank into one of the chairs facing the King. Arthur stared disbelievingly at his father.

“Arthur.” Uther’s tone was sharp as he gestured for his son to take the empty chair.

Uther was silent for a long moment, and Arthur felt as he had on that awful afternoon in Sandringham. All talk of abdication was off the agenda for today, but still Arthur couldn’t risk a glance at Merlin, just in case it drew Uther’s ire.

“I believe you have once more ensured the safety of the Prince of Wales.”

Arthur’s eyes did snap to Merlin at Uther’s words. The man who’d given rise to legends was pressing his back into a high-backed antique chair wearing the same expression as a cornered fawn. If Arthur wasn’t as terrified where this could all go, he could probably (possibly) find it amusing.

Uther smiled and Arthur hated that the only comparison that sprung to mind was a shark. It wasn’t a real smile, nor was it one of the cold, disinterested ones that Uther often shot at anyone he’d already lost interest in. This was something else, and Arthur couldn’t begin to guess what it meant.

“Both King and country are grateful for what you have done.” 

Arthur was sure a faint beeping sound was coming from somewhere in his brain; a desperate alarm call, alerting him to what he didn’t quite know. The beeping got louder as he watched his father lean forwards ever so slightly.

“And it is therefore a great honour for me to award you with a suitable token of appreciation.”

Merlin looked at Arthur then, whatever he’d interpreted from the King’s words unsettling him enough to seek out some support.

“What do you mean, Father?” Arthur asked, knowing full well that Uther would hate the interruption.

Uther smiled tightly at his son. “Mr Emrys is to be awarded the Coeur Gallant for his services to the Royal Family.”

Arthur blinked. “Pardon?”

“I’m not repeating myself, Arthur.”

Uther looked down at the papers on his desk and pushed them to the side. He then returned his hands to the table top and clasped his fingers together. He raised his eyes to his son’s and waited.

Arthur glanced slightly at Merlin, who was gaping, but clearly desperately trying not to. Heroes were awarded with OBEs, MBEs, and, only very occasionally these days, knighted, every February to commemorate the anniversary of the King’s coronation, but the Coeur Gallant was something else; it was awarded to only a very select few deemed worthy enough of such an honour. It was common knowledge that the Coeur Gallant had been given only to a small number of men and women during the reign of the Pendragon dynasty, and not to a single one since Uther had assumed the crown.

“You’re giving Merlin an honour?” Arthur felt he should at least try and check that he hadn’t misheard his father.

“As I said, Arthur,” Uther replied sharply, “I am not repeating myself.”

Arthur heard Merlin gulp as Uther turned his stare on him instead.

“Mr Emrys, my office will ensure you are aware of the details of the ceremony in due course,” Uther said, that unnerving smile back on his face. “I’m certain that the level of public interest will be quite unprecedented.”

Arthur clenched his fists on his knees, glancing quickly at Merlin. He watched as Merlin’s forehead crumpled into a frown as his eyes fell on Arthur’s fingers. Uther had finally shown his hand. The press would be all over Merlin like a rash as soon as the honours list was announced. Uther was effectively painting Merlin, and Cambridge Place, with a great big target for the tabloids. It was going to make it close to impossible for Arthur to come and go as he pleased. He shook his head slightly to clear the simmer or anger he could feel beginning. Uther, who hated the press for hounding him after Ygraine’s death, and for trying to paint the Pendragon name in a bad light, was now using it as a weapon. Any compassion his father had felt when he’d encountered Arthur in his apartment in Kensington had clearly evaporated, and Arthur hated him for it.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply; to tell his father that this scare tactic wasn’t going to work either. Christ, he’d lived what now felt like a hundred lifetimes, and in every single one of them Merlin had found him, or he’d found Merlin – even his father couldn’t warp Destiny. But Arthur didn’t get the chance.

“Thank you for the honour, Your Majesty.”

It was Arthur’s turn to gape as he stared at Merlin; now sitting ramrod straight in his chair, his chin tilted upwards in a now-familiar show of defiance.

Uther, for just a moment, looked as surprised as Arthur felt.

“However,” Merlin continued as he leaned forward just a fraction, “I don’t feel it would be appropriate to accept an award for an act I would perform a million times over without ever hoping for, or _seeking_ , compensation or reward. There is nothing in this world that is worth more than the life of Arthur Pendragon, and there never will be.”

Arthur had skipped straight passed stunned into complete and utter wonderment. Uther appeared to have taken a similar journey if his expression was anything to go by.

“I beg your pardon?” Uther managed, eventually.

Merlin remained silent, his steady gaze not wavering.

Uther pursed his lips in that way that had reduced the prime minister to ugly tears on at least two occasions.

 _Oh, bugger,_ Arthur thought as he watched his father push himself carefully to his feet, _here we go_.

“I beg your pardon?” Uther repeated slowly.

Merlin, because he apparently thought that it had been too long since he’d thrown himself headlong into a life-threatening situation, actually smiled. _Smiled at Uther_.

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed, unable to stop himself.

“I don’t need an award to know that I would act the same way again,” Merlin said after a lengthy silence. “I don’t need an award to know that I will always, _always_ , do whatever is necessary to keep your son safe.

Uther now looked as though he’d swallowed a bottle of vinegar.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted for him,” Merlin added, “but he doesn’t deserve to be punished for that. Arthur will still be the greatest king the world has ever known; it doesn’t matter _who_ he chooses to be by his side." 

Arthur felt as though the clamp that had settled around his heart when he’d first threatened to abdicate loosened ever so slightly at Merlin’s words. This, _this_ , more than anything else that had ever passed between them, showed Arthur just how much Merlin believed in him.

“No,” Arthur shook his head, his focus solely on Merlin as he reached his hand across to the other chair. “It does matter, and it’s _you._ ” 

Merlin smiled; just a small quirk of the lips, but his eyes were brighter than Arthur had seen them in a while.

Arthur glanced at his father, who appeared to now be trying to set his desk on fire with the power of his glare alone. In short, Uther looked positively murderous.

“If you really want me to accept this from you,” Merlin continued, looking even more determined than he had for the rest of this fairly one-sided conversation, “then I will do so, as long as it is not something that has been designed solely to place further pressure on Arthur. I will submit to any rule, any regulation, and _all_ public spectacles that you design – I will do all of that, for _Arthur_.”

 _So, this is how Merlin will die_ , Arthur thought, still feeling a little light-headed at Merlin’s show of defiance (and, let’s face it, utter stupidity).

Uther raised his eyes to Merlin, and Arthur could see the storm lurking there.

“Your loyalty,” Uther ground out, “is a credit to you, Mr Emrys.”

 _Oh my God_ , Arthur thought. His father actually _almost_ sounded impressed. 

“I hope for your sake that loyalty is not misplaced.”

Arthur frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Oh, it isn’t,” Merlin said firmly. 

“That will be all,” Uther snapped eventually. “Arthur, I expect a full report on the magic user by tomorrow morning.”

Arthur didn’t need to hear the ‘ _or else’_ his father didn’t voice. “Yes, father.”

Without another word, Arthur twitched his head towards the door, silently urging Merlin to hurry up about it. Merlin, apparently didn’t need telling twice as he practically bolted from the room.

Thankfully George was nowhere to be seen once Uther’s office doors closed firmly behind them. Arthur had to stop and press his hands to his face.

Merlin, on the other hand, was practically running up the corridor. Clearly self-preservation had finally kicked in and he was trying to get out of the palace before Uther could unleash some new fresh hell.

Merlin had stood up to Uther, in a way that Arthur had never been able to. Fine, he’d threatened to give up the crown, but Merlin had taken on his father for him. If Arthur hadn’t already known he wouldn’t give Merlin up for anything, then this would have been the moment; standing in the long gallery, watching Merlin disappear around the corner at speed. 

Arthur didn’t even try to stop the laugh that bubbled from his mouth.

**ooOOoo**

 

Morgana’s raucous laughter was still ringing in Arthur’s ears an hour after he’d left his sister giggling in her apartment. She’d thoroughly enjoyed hearing about Merlin’s act of defiance, and had forced him to repeat every word of it at least three times, going so far as to force Arthur to play the part of Uther. The role of ‘Arthur’ in the scenario had been taken on by a slightly sad looking pot plant, which gave Arthur further insight into what Morgana thought of him at times.

“Arthur, go to sleep,” Merlin mumbled into the pillow next to him. “Seriously, why do you always have to think at such an annoying volume?”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur replied, the vague hint of a smile playing on his lips. He was still being buffeted by an enormous sense of pride.

Merlin snorted slightly.

“Merlin?”

Merlin rolled over with a dramatic sigh. “Yes? Please do keep talking to me, it’s not like I’m absolutely shattered, or that  have to deal with Morgana for a whole day tomorrow. Oh wait, yes I do!”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, fine, alright. Goodnight, Merlin.”

There was silence for a few minutes and Arthur was just drifting somewhere close to the very edge of sleep.

“Arthur?”

“Seriously?” It was Arthur’s turn to sigh.

“What were you going to ask me?” Merlin’s voice was quiet, with just the hint of contrition colouring his words. “A few minutes ago, I mean.”

Arthur rolled onto his side so that he could see Merlin properly. “I was just thinking about… _before_.”

The light in Merlin’s eyes dimmed slightly. “Oh, right. What about it?”

Arthur, unhappy that he’d brought up such a subject after a triumphant evening, reached over to run his hand through Merlin’s hair in apology. “I was wondering if we always ended up…” He waved his hand around them.

Merlin’s lips quirked slightly. “What, here? In your bedroom in Kensington Palace?”

“You know what I mean, Merlin, don’t be dense.”

Merlin did laugh at that, before turning serious once more as he shook his head. “No, I don’t think we have. Not every time.”

Arthur nodded slowly, an unwelcome sense of disappointment settling in his bones. “What about the first time? I mean I know he, _I,_ was with…” He trailed off, unable to say her name.

“Guinevere,” Merlin said softly. “No. You were a devoted husband to her, right to the, um, well, _end_.”

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure why he’d been so compelled to know, but now that he’d started the conversation he needed to know. “And you? Did you have…someone?”

Merlin ducked his head. “You think I had time for that when I spent my days running after you, making sure you didn’t get yourself killed?”

Arthur tugged him closer; his actions a silent apology for everything he couldn't remember.

Merlin rested a hand over Arthur’s heart. “You were everything,” he added eventually. “Then, as you are now.”


End file.
